#anyways tune back in next week for chapter 4

[forasecondtherewedwon]

seven degrees east - chapter four

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairings: multiple Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 4 / ? Word Count: 4645

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For most who were permitted entry, the Thorpe Abbotts grad pub was a useful spot to continue any promising discussions begun in class, bitch about grading undergraduate essays, and—thanks to the student discount offered by this campus establishment—get pre-trivia night tipsy on a higher quality of beer than they normally drank. The pub was called the Barracks because of the airfield that had stood on the spot decades before. Though the chairs were hard and the laminated page ambitiously headed “signature cocktails” likely hadn’t changed since the ’80s, the university’s graduate students considered it a nice place to hang out. The Barracks’ quirks made it all the homier. And nobody ordered the cocktails anyway.

It was larger than most of the pubs the boys would have packed themselves into on a Friday night, and continued to feel spacious even when a popular local band played the low stage situated at one end or the once-a-month karaoke event packed the place with unusual customers. (These were mostly fearless female students from departments that scared the boys shitless, like medical biophysics and actuarial science. Curt had once gleefully disappeared into the thick hedge ringing the pub’s patio with one such woman after discovering his shot-in-the-dark conversation topic of the possibility of animal cloning had legs.)

On an average, unspecial day, the Barracks had its particular draw for each of the boys. Gale liked it as a place to sit and nod, resting while others spoke. Rosie liked to do the speaking. For Bubbles, its pub fare was an oasis on Crosby’s nights to cook—for Crosby, it was the simple pleasure of an actual place where an actual bartender knew his name (after he summoned the nerve to inform the man that his name was Harry, not Henry). At the Barracks, Nash did what Nash did anywhere: trawled for a date to the movies. John—kinetic creature that he was—would throw darts with his eyes closed and dig out ancient board games whose missing pieces (“Yes, you can use that rook as a Battleship peg, Buck! Go! Your turn!”) were no impediment to his will to play anything and everything.

Curt loved the Barracks for another reason. Below the dusty TV usually tuned to show music videos, the news, or a match of whatever sport the academics got overly invested in that week as an excuse to put off writing an essay or studying for an exam, there was a PlayStation. Due to its locale, it had suffered some abuse, but it was reliable enough to get Curt through several levels of Air Combat. This left him feeling triumphant and allowed him to pat himself on the back for tearing his eyes away from the smaller screen of the Game Boy he had in his dorm.

“C’mon, Lieutenant,” he coached himself, leaning his whole body as he steered his fighter jet away from enemy fire. “Fly like an angel, don’t die like one.”

The pep talk didn’t work, and when his plane was destroyed, Curt sighed and set the controller on his knee in defeat. It slid off and clattered to the floor. He stared at it for several seconds before scooping it up and putting it back on the battered cabinet upon which the TV rested.

“Rough day to be a pilot,” he said, sagging into a different seat as he joined Jack Kidd at the bar.

“Yeah,” Kidd commiserated. Then, “Huh?”

“Aw, never mind. How’s the dissertation goin’?”

Predictably, Kidd groaned. Curt winced sympathetically.

“Next one’s on me, bud,” he promised, giving Kidd’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“It’s actually going…” Kidd tried again as his face attempted a more hopeful expression. “…fine.”

“That good, huh?”

“I’m not behind. Well, I am, but not catastrophically. Well… You know what? You’ll see. Enjoy your innocence, Curt.”

Curt didn’t know exactly what to do with this troubling speech—or with being called innocent, which he wasn’t sure he’d ever been called. He decided he would give Kidd the gift of silent companionship. In between sips of his beer, he held the edge of the bar and twisted back and forth on his stool. This didn’t appear to bother Kidd, who seemed to be lost in his own mind for a while.

Eventually, he said, “I think I need a hobby.”

“A hobby,” Curt repeated. “Ok, that sounds like a good idea. Whaddya like?”

Very seriously, Kidd replied, “Reading.”

Curt kneaded his forehead and tried not to make the noise Kidd made when anyone brought up his dissertation.

“No. You gotta do something that’s nothing like the thing you’re working on,” he counselled with an emphatic slashing gesture. “Like, me? For instance? Last summer, I drove out to Rhode Island, right?”

“I don’t know, did you?”

Curt sighed.

“Guy, wait. I’m tellin’ you a story. I drove out to Rhode Island because I heard about this big skateboarding competition—the X Games. So, I’m watchin’ Tony Hawk, in person, doin’ all these flips and shit—”

“Yeah?”

“—and I’m like…” Curt spread his hands, a grin splitting his face. “…I could fuckin’ do that.”

Kidd’s expression went flat.

“Right. And now you’ve given up academia to pursue your dream of being a professional skateboarder,” he said sarcastically. “Mega inspirational. Thanks, Biddick.”

Curt leaned his elbows on the bar and shrugged.

“Well, no. But I bought a board, and I’m tryin’ to learn. Gets me outta my head, you know?”

“Hey, you know another way you can get what’s in your head out? Skateboarding accident. I hope you wear a helmet.”

“Hot tip. Thanks, Dad. I’m just tryin’ to help you overcome that fuckin’ fight-or-flight response you get whenever somebody says the D-word.”

“Dad?”

“Dissertation.”

Kidd’s nose scrunched in aversion. Curt was surprised he didn’t shrink back more dramatically, a vampire confronted with a cross, but maybe the fact that he’d already said the word once had desensitized Kidd a little.

“I guess I feel a bit better,” Kidd said. “Being annoyed at you is kinda cleansing.”

Curt raised his glass to toast that sentiment.

“You’re welcome.” He had a swallow. “You comin’ to trivia later? New hobby?”

“My being smarter than you isn’t a hobby, just a fact. But, yeah; I’ll come.”

“Awesome. We’ve been lookin’ for a new teammate who’s an expert on havin’ a stick up their ass.”

Kidd glared at Curt, but the remark provided him with the impetus he needed to hop off his stool and storm out of the Barracks, curtailing his afternoon of procrastination. Curt chuckled into his glass until he realized he’d been left to pay the bill.

—

Trivia night at the Barracks was a joyful confusion of noise that only clarified on the chorus of “Sweet Caroline,” the handful of patrons close enough to a speaker conducting the room with air-punches timed to each “BUP BUP BUH!” Though less busy than it was in fall and winter, the bar was still close to bursting. Windows and doors had been propped open to allow the sound to spill out into the warm summer evening. Free chairs were scarce, so all around the bar, friends crammed into booths and sat on each other’s laps.

The atmosphere was both competitive and full of low expectations; there were never enough questions in the category someone knew a lot about to enable them to perform well overall. This meant any feelings of despondency were, at least, short-lived. By nature of their discipline, the literature boys had a small chip on their collective scholastic shoulder. They were mainly let down by always going into trivia night expecting to do better than they inevitably did, trusting the novels they’d read to provide a sufficient foundation on topics like religion and politics and geology. Sometimes they lucked out, and sometimes they absorbed a stray grad student from another discipline into their team. Often, they cursed the very authors they had venerated only hours before. And they cursed Bubbles, who would give away literature answers to anyone who asked. (“That’s the one thing we know!” Crosby lamented, head in hands.)

Mostly, the night was about pooling information the way they would pool change for a cab, picking through the pocket lint and the gum wrappers to find the coins. Gale knew all the parts of a radio. Rosie could confidently name five Janet Jackson hits. Nash surprised the entire table with his knowledge of African rivers, inspiring John to take spontaneous hold of his head with both hands and plant a benedictory kiss on his forehead, not seeing the shockwave of hurt that momentarily dislodged Gale’s careful public mask. When Curt slung an arm around the back of Gale’s neck the next time they were all bent over their answer paper, Gale found it was easy to settle into the contact. He laughed when Curt told him he smelled good.

When they had lost, and they were trashed, and it was not yet 10pm, they considered how they might extend their evening. They had handed in their short essays for Professor Harding’s class that morning, which increased their sense that they should be celebrating; another paper down, only the final essay to go, and then the summer class was over and they would have some time to dick around before fall semester began. Everything seemed good and big and possible as they tumbled from the Barracks’ interior onto the patio.

It began as a whisper, and then they were all looking at and teasing Rosie as he blushed about the girl he’d met at the video store.

“You should call her,” Nash suggested, grinning. “You got her number, right?”

Rosie nodded.

“Well, go back to your room and get it!” Bubbles urged. “We’ll wait right here!”

There was a short bank of payphones against the brick wall, just beyond the bounds of the patio, and Rosie glanced at them before looking again to Bubbles.

“Call from here? You wanna hear me crash and burn?”

“Not at all, Rosie,” Gale assured him, eyes sparkling with playfulness and intoxication. “We wanna learn how it’s done.”

As they cheered him on, Crosby shoved Rosie gently in the direction of their dorms, but Rosie rolled out of the push. He held up his hands, smirking.

“I don’t need to go get her number.” He tapped his temple. “Right here, boys.”

“You memorized it?” Curt interpreted with a laugh.

“That is adorable,” John pronounced. He trailed Rosie to a payphone—they all did—and massaged his shoulders like a prize fighter’s while Rosie dug change from his pocket. When Rosie shook him off, smiling, John stepped back and crossed his arms as he joined the semi-circle the boys had made around the payphones.

Rosie dropped the coins through the slot, then took a deep breath and lifted the plastic receiver to his ear. He turned to the boys.

“It’s ringing,” he hissed.

And they all saw the moment she answered: Rosie’s hand clutched tighter around the receiver, his eyebrows shot up, and his gaze darted up towards the lately-appeared stars in relief, then down to the patio stones between his shoes as he focused in on her voice.

“Hi, Liss. It’s Robert Rosenthal calling.” He swatted his hand at Curt, who was pretending to look impressed as he mouthed “Robert” at Gale. They couldn’t remember him ever going by his first name; he was always Rosie to them. “From— You do? Ok, good.”

They took the side of the conversation they were hearing to mean that this was the girl from the store, that she hadn’t given Rosie a fake number, and that she’d known who he was right away. A very good sign. The boys monkey-barred between Rosie’s “uh huh” and “mhmm”s, his noises of agreement as he listened to Liss, and they watched him smile and smile into the receiver’s mouthpiece. Eventually, Rosie and Liss had talked so long that he had to feed more change into the payphone. They peeled off to sit at a nearby table. Gale watched Rosie, and he watched John—shoulder-to-shoulder with Nash. When Curt rose to go back inside and find a bathroom, Gale went too.

“Well, yeah,” Rosie was saying to Liss, running a fingernail down the metal ridges of the payphone cord. “I was hoping you’d call too. I mean, that I’d call you. You gave me your number.”

On the other end of the line, Liss laughed.

“I did,” she said. “Are you a little bit drunk right now, Robert?”

Rosie felt the flush in his cheeks deepen.

“A little. You don’t have to call me ‘Robert.’”

“That’s what you told me your name was,” Liss reminded him, amused. “What do you go by? Rob? Robbie? Please don’t say Bert. I probably could learn to separate that name from Sesame Street, but I don’t want to.”

“Most people call me ‘Rosie.’ I introduced myself as Robert because I… you…” he stammered, then laughed at himself. Because the second we locked eyes, I didn’t know if I was coming or going, he was trying to say.

“I get it.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, relieved.

“Yeah.”

Her straightforwardness terrified and reassured him—and not much could do either. It didn’t make his heart beat any slower though. That Poesque organ was pounding in his chest, making itself known. He felt like he’d been seen when he hadn’t even realized he’d made himself visible. In this way, it seemed to Rosie that love was a terrifying game of laser tag. He hadn’t used the word “love” out loud—not to the boys, certainly not over the phone to Liss—but Rosie was possessed of a quiet certainty that love was happening to him, completely unexpected.

“It was trivia night here,” he told Liss, when someone used the rear exit of the Barracks and a swell of sound escaped as the door was pushed wider. “You should come sometime.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said.

He wished she were there already. Had he not been drunk, he knew he would’ve been driving to meet up with her. He recalled Curt’s early attempts on his skateboard, how Curt had said that what you had to do before anything else was find your center of gravity so you could keep your balance. Rosie believed that was what he was experiencing: he’d found his center of gravity. It felt to him as though he was suddenly aligned with a force of considerable magnitude. A powerful feeling—and yet he grinned into the phone like a kid.

Meanwhile, the boys had decided it was worth getting another round, since Rosie was taking an unexpectedly long time on the phone. Bubbles offered to go back into the bar. John accompanied him. They wove between tables and joined the end of the line. Bubbles didn’t seem to mind waiting, but after John had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tapped his foot for about thirty seconds, scanning the busy bar, he felt too antsy to keep standing there.

“I’m gonna go look for Curt and Buck,” he informed Bubbles, raising his voice to be heard though they were beside each other. “That alright?”

“Ok! You know where I’ll be!”

John nodded and twitched his mouth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. He slipped away through the Barracks’ front doors. This didn’t put him outside. The Barracks, though a pub, was a university establishment, connected to campus via more than its patrons; it was located in the back of the Philosophy building. The front door exit dumped John into a distinctly institutional corridor, from the sickly pastel paint on the walls to the rectangular lights littered with the shadows of trapped flies overhead. He strolled down the hall, letting the sound of the bar lessen and blur. The bathrooms were way at the end, past the water fountains.

He didn’t see Curt and Gale standing by the bathrooms, and he hadn’t really expected to. There was nothing to do in this hallway. John’s plan was to walk to the end then turn and continue on to the entrance hall. He figured the boys were probably outside, smoking on the front steps. Maybe getting a little high. That would have explained why they’d taken so long to come back to the group. They’d probably lost track of time.

John was smiling as he pictured this, coming upon the two of them with their brows furrowed, spliffs pinched between the fingers they pointed emphatically at one another as they said the dumbest shit they’d ever said in their lives. Yeah, he’d take a hit too, then wrangle them, shoo ’em back to the patio. Casting his eyes into classrooms each time he passed a door with a window, John idly decided he would walk the boys around the outside of the building instead of backtracking. This hallway, he thought, killed the lively atmosphere of the Barracks. It was just too—

He stopped like someone had stopped him. Physically. He forgot how to walk or blink or breathe. It wasn’t until his jaw clenched that John remembered he had a body at all—it had all gone numb.

The ache of his teeth startled him back into himself. Reanimating, he hurried down the hall. He didn’t know if the bathroom was empty, only that the closest stall was. He slammed the door wide. It hit the wall with a bang, and, like a pair of dice, John threw himself to his knees on the cold tile floor. He hadn’t had that much to drink, but he braced his forearms on the toilet seat and retched into the bowl until he shook, until snot ran from his nose and tears from his eyes. When it was over—taking the immeasurable as-long-as-it-takes that time was unfairly doled out in when one was in the throes of being painfully ill in the liminal space of a (probably) empty men’s room at the end of a quiet hallway in a darkened Philosophy building on an interminable June night—John felt as hollow and contorted as a bendy straw. He wiped roughly at his mouth with the back of his hand before collapsing against the wall.

Finally, he reached up to shut the stall door, fumbling limply with the lock. It was too late and not the kind of protection he needed, but he wanted the illusion.

—

As in many places, the thing to do for fun in Casper, Wyoming as Gale had grown up had been to ride bikes all day long. The summers had been wide, Casper Mountain crumpled like a bedsheet on the southern horizon. Gale’s routine had involved picking up his bike from where he’d dumped it at the side door on his way in to dinner the previous evening and roaming in lazy loops—not the kind of reliable routes the mailman did, but Gale would’ve inevitably run into a friend who’d been doing the same thing. When there had been a few of them, they’d ridden towards the train station. His friends had always liked crisscrossing the tracks on the way, ducking under the lowering gate and laughing at the flashing red warning lights. Gale had done this too, his face marked with a cold determination the other kids didn’t really understand, the rest of them whooping and bumping their wheels across the tracks.

In the parking lot, they had chattered and loitered, leaning their bikes against the train station. Gale had stayed astride his, paying little attention to the others. With his shoes planted on the asphalt and his chin atop the arms he’d folded over his handlebars, he’d watched people arrive from Laramie and Denver and Salt Lake City. But before that, before the cars had disgorged their passengers, there had been the sound of the train pulling into the station. The screech. The low huffs, so alluring to Gale that that had been the sound to call him towards the tracks, rather than the jangling alarm at a crossing. He hadn’t given in—he’d known better—but he’d closed his eyes to better hear it breathe.

The huffs of Curt’s breathing took Gale back, but this time, the warm push of air was right there on his cheek. Their mouths moved together. Except for the breathing, Gale didn’t think Curt had ever been so quiet for so long.

It had been a lot of little things that week. Or not so little, only seeming small because it was as if Gale had viewed them through a telescope. Breaking up with Marge was one. Because she was so far away, that hadn’t made a big change to his life, but it felt like a long-attached tether was suddenly gone and he’d discovered a fuller range of motion. He hoped she would too. On top of that had been the in-class discussion of the woodchopper, and Curt’s mystery hickey last weekend, and Curt’s unembarrassed insistence that Gale read Giovanni’s Room, and Curt still by Gale’s side when John’s lips met Nash’s forehead. Gale didn’t want to date Curt, but he wanted to take a page from his metaphorical book and make out with somebody outside a bar without thinking too hard about it. In some half-examined corner of his self, he’d needed it, and Curt had been amenable, and then there they’d been.

Gale had been private with Marge too, so it hadn’t felt so different—after Gale had found himself looking at Curt with half-lidded eyes, Curt with his heated stare on Gale’s mouth—to step into a vacant classroom and close the door. That much was the same. And it was a surprise to Gale that kissing a man didn’t feel like Kissing a Man; it just felt like he was kissing Curt, as he had once kissed Marge. There was a zing of giddy lust without any deeper sense of romantic devotion, but Gale didn’t think that had anything to do with Curt not being a woman. They were friends—a little drunk, a little horny—who happened to be comfortable with each other. Which made it so easy for Gale to fist Curt’s t-shirt at the base of his neck as his pulse thundered through him like a departing train, and for Curt to go along with it.

Curt smiled at the parts of Gale now being revealed. This knowledge wouldn’t go anywhere, wouldn’t mean anything, and so it was fine to enjoy Gale’s uncompromising aggression. He had taken control so quickly and so thoroughly that it could almost have been his idea. Except Curt knew better. He knew every small opening he’d given Gale, a million ways to come close if he wanted that, never really believing that he did until their eyes had met in the bathroom mirror and Curt had watched Gale’s cheeks bloom a dark, velvety pink.

I thought there was Bucky, Curt thought, but Gale wasn’t hesitating, kissing him roughly over and over, so Curt didn’t ask.

In a while, they went outside and found the boys where they had left them. Only John was absent. Curt slid into one of the benches and Gale sat on the edge of the table. It didn’t seem like anybody’d missed them; there were drinks on the table and some idiot had brought up the essays they’d submitted to Professor Harding, so everyone was talking about what they’d written, liberally badmouthing Thoreau as the font of all their grief. Gale didn’t want to think about schoolwork, but he didn’t want to attract everyone’s notice by demanding a new topic, so he sat quietly.

When John appeared, Gale straightened as though called to attention. John didn’t look well, somehow.

“What the hell, man?” Bubbles said to him, more confused than angry. “You never came back! I had to wave my arms until Croz saw me through the window and came to help me carry drinks!”

John just muttered, “Sorry,” and stood apart from their table.

“Everything ok?” Rosie asked.

John could tell he didn’t want to, that he was still enjoying the high of his phone call to Liss, and that John was bringing down the mood. But he couldn’t help it. He let his mouth stretch into an insincere, close-lipped smile and let out a quick, “Yep.”

Rosie watched him uneasily. The entire tableau had frozen: the perfect picture of a group of friends on a night at the bar. John stared at Rosie until he nodded slightly, understanding that something was definitely not ok, but that they weren’t going to talk about it. Talking about it was not a strong suit for either of them.

“We’re invited to a party,” Rosie said, now that everyone was there.

The news thawed the boys just enough; Rosie answered their questions. Next weekend. Yes, Nash, Helen would be there. Yes, she and Liss were roommates. Yes, all the boys were invited, but nobody had better make Rosie look bad or he would give them shit like they had never been given shit before. He was already looking forward to it, seeing the inside of a place that wasn’t just one of their regular haunts, though he intended no offence to the familiar. Rosie liked having something to come back to, but he liked having someplace to go.

They left the Barracks that night still talking about it, the dark sky twinkling far above Nash and Rosie’s excitement, and Crosby’s guilty yearning, and Curt’s contented libido. In the dorms, he tapped Gale’s elbow with his own before bounding down the hall towards his room. It wasn’t an invitation, just a farewell; he didn’t expect Gale to go from never having kissed a guy (he hadn’t said, but Curt assumed) to the whole enchilada in one night. There was no pressure. Curt didn’t think either of them wanted to turn a few minutes of messing around into anything more than that.

And Gale was aware that he should’ve felt relieved by how Curt left it, but he didn’t. He trailed John into their suite, full of unspoken dread.

“John,” he finally said, when the door was shut.

“What?”

But John was moving towards his bedroom, not even looking in Gale’s direction. Gale knew, he knew already, but it wasn’t enough. For some reason, he had to feel this too: what he knew he would feel when he looked John in the eye.

But John was a baby, and he wouldn’t allow it.

Gale sat tensely on the couch, waiting in case John emerged from his bedroom. He turned on the TV, tried to read. He chewed his lip until he couldn’t stand it and whipped The Portrait of a Lady across the room, angry at himself, angry at the soft crush of pages hitting the opposite wall. God fucking dammit, John! he wanted to yell. Gale was furious because it wasn’t right that he had done this thing—this rare, uninhibited thing, the huff, huff of Curt’s panted breath—that he told himself wasn’t about John at all and now John was punishing him by refusing eye contact. He wanted to make John look at him.

Gale had never intended for him, for anyone, to see. Part of what frustrated him was his own discomfort. He was trying not to let that sour what he and Curt had done. John wouldn’t care, Gale was certain, that he’d spied Gale kissing a man; he’d never known John to exhibit that kind of prejudice. But something was eating John, and if John had seen—and Gale harboured no doubts—then Gale wanted to read it in his eyes.

They read books, mostly. They found meaning. Gale wasn’t sure he could decide what this had meant for him until he learned from John’s eyes what it meant for them.

He waited another fifteen minutes, then he went to bed.

[tngrace]

Chapter 4

I feel like I jump from Pete to Tom to Mike and vice versa in this chapter a tad too much, so I tried to use line breaks to break it up. Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the divider. Hopefully it doesn't make it too confusing. I'm planning on working on the last chapter today/this week so it'll be ready to post next Friday, and I'm so excited for how I wrap up this part! Stay tuned and I hope you enjoyed! <3

A03; Tumbler Masterlists: Main; Mav Chronicles

Cleaning out Goose’s things after getting home from the hospital is one of the hardest things Mav has ever done. He fights the tears with everything he has, knowing Carole and Bradley are just on the other side of the door, but some still fall. He’s doing his best to be strong, to be there for Carole to lean on, but holding Goose’s things is almost too much. He boxes up things he knows she’ll want to keep and leaves things he knows can just be donated. He pockets Goose’s spare tags knowing Carole won’t mind. Once he has the box together, he leans against the door just breathing. He doesn’t think he can do this, but he knows he has to. He takes a few more deep breaths, and then faces his best friend’s widow. 

Carole telling him Goose would do it without him feels hollow because he doesn’t think he can do this. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right without Goose by his side. 

The next few days pass in a blur. Mav spends most of it helping Carole and Bradley with anything they need. He hears from Cougar as well, which is a surprise, and Cougar is the only one Mav shares his thoughts about quitting with knowing Cougar would understand. It’s a refreshing conversation even if it doesn’t help him make a decision one way or the other. 

Mav is right back at class as soon as it resumes, his decision of what to do put on hold; his brain is too scrambled to think clearly anyways and Carole seems to think getting right back to it might be good for him, despite Bradley crying any time Mav leaves his sight. The board cleared him of any wrongdoing and returned him to flight status immediately. He doesn’t want to go back to work, but Mike pushes him to get back into the air. Mav is still so out of it, he can’t differentiate between Mike as his dad and as his commander, and he goes along with it because disappointing Mike is the last thing he ever wants to do. Mike doesn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable sending Pete up in his current mental state, but he knows that’s what any other commander would do. It kills him, but he tells Rick to get him up as soon as possible. 

He’s waiting on the tarmac for his first flight back, Goose’s tags tumbling back and forth in his hands as he’s lost in thought. 

Bradley is in his arms, his tears too much for Mav to resist picking him up. He has a hand on Carole’s back as she cries quietly. Mav’s eyes are tear filled, but he doesn’t let them fall. He stands at attention despite holding Bradley, as his eyes never leave the flag draped casket. He never thought he’d be here, standing next to his best friend’s wife, holding his best friend’s kid, while said best friend is being lowered into the ground. And it’s all his fault. He can’t get the sound of Goose hitting the canopy out of his head. It haunts him day and night. He can’t get the images of Goose, covered in blood, lifeless in his arms out of his head. It’s always there. Carole and Bradley will blame him, just as he blames himself.  His arms tighten around Bradley as the flag is folded and presented to Carole by Viper while the twenty-one gun salute takes place. He can feel Bradley jump in his arms with each fire, and it’s all Mav can do to stay at attention. He knows Carrie, Cat and Jamie are there somewhere as well, but he can’t act like he knows them. He feels Tom nudge his arm when it’s time for them to pound their wings into the casket. He sets Bradley down, despite the little boy trying to desperately cling to him, not understanding what is happening or why his favorite people are upset. The entire class steps forward, and one by one drive their wings in. Mav is the last one to do it, Tom standing by his side the entire time. He feels his breath catch, a tear falling despite his best efforts, and then it’s done. He stands at full attention at the end of the casket as the missing man formation flies overhead.  People start disperasing after that, some stopping to offer Carole their condolences, but Mav doesn’t move. It isn’t until Tom whispers to him that they need to go, does he snap back into reality. He gives Tom a nod and then he’s scoping Bradley up once more, the little boy burying his face in Mav’s neck as they head back to the vehicles. He sees Mike join Carrie, Cat and Jamie and he gives them a long look. He wishes he could fall into Carrie’s arms and let her just hold him until the pain disappears like when he was a child, but he knows that’s not possible. He gives them a nod and then joins Carole in the car, Tom taking them back to the house. 

“Lieutenant Mitchell you are cleared for takeoff” It’s being shouted in his ear by Jester, so there’s no telling how many times they’d tried getting his attention while he’d been lost in thought. He drops the tags in his flight suit pocket, and acknowledges the order. He’s in the air before he knows it and it just feels all wrong. He’s been so out of it, he doesn’t even know who’s in his back seat. He can’t engage, barely feels like he’s flying the jet, before he’s landing once more, only breathing once the canopy is clear and his mask is off. 

“He won’t engage Mike, not in the air or on the ground.” 

The rest of the week goes about the same. Mav stays lost in his head, doesn’t engage with anyone, and won’t engage in the air, half the time barely getting in the air. The whole time there’s only one thought circling through Pete’s head; I can’t do this anymore. Everyone watches as Pete falls apart, no one more than Tom, but no one knows how to help. 

“It’s only been a few days.” 

“I know. I know. But he might not make it back from this.” 

Mike sighs knowing Rick might just be right. “Keep sending him up.” 

“Mike…” 

“I know ok! I know. He’s my kid,” he hisses quietly because they are still on base, even though no one should be near his office. “I don’t like this any more than you. But I can’t… we can’t…. If we coddle him, it’ll look like something to the Brass. We have to keep sending him up.” 

“And if he quits?” 

Mike is silent, stewing over the question. 

“Mike, have you even talked to him?” 

“Not since the hospital,” Mike sighs, sinking into his desk chair. “I had to make sure the Brass were done snooping around. You know it would kill Pete if they made the connection now.” 

“Maybe you should talk to him… not as a Commander.” 

“Maybe…. I don’t know that he’ll want to talk to me though.” 

“Try.” 

He gives Rick a nod, and then his best friend is gone. Mike thinks over how to talk to Pete, but he’s not sure he can make it happen. The next day it all goes to shit before he ever formulates a solid plan. They thought putting Sunny with Mav would help him engage, but it didn’t. It just made things worse, and the entirety of the class saw him finally blow up. 

Mike catches Tom’s eye across the tarmac, Tom and Ron having been observing from a distance as well. Tom drops his eye before Mike can convey or deduce anything and then he’s gone.  

Tom finds Pete in the locker room, cleaning out his locker, but he doesn’t know what to say. He tries to apologize once more, but Pete won’t even look at him. It’s tearing him up inside to see Pete like this, but he doesn’t stop him from leaving. Tom hears Wolf calling Charlie letting her know Pete has quit. While it angers him, he can’t do anything about it because no one but Slider knows Pete is his. He finds Slider waiting by his truck when he finally makes it out. 

Word of Mav leaving reaches Mike and Rick before Pete is even off base, and Mike is lost. He let his kid down and he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. He just hopes Pete reaches out before he does something rash. 

“Well?” 

“He’s gone. I… I didn’t know what to say to stop him. He won’t even look at me anymore.” 

“He’s hurting Tom. He doesn't know what he’s doing.” 

“He asked for space and I gave it to him.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” Tom gives him the side eye glare because they’ve had this argument plenty over the last several days. 

“Don’t give me that look. Listen, you feel guilty so you’re giving him whatever he wants. And maybe he’s too messed up to say what he really wants; that he wants someone to fight to be there for him, to not let him push them away. Nick’s told us how messed up the kid was from his shitty past. Maybe it’s time you fight back and show him you’re not going anywhere.” 

Tom ponders his words and finally decides maybe Slider is right. “He’ll probably go to the airport,” Tom concedes. 

Pete doesn’t know where’s going, but he knows he has to get out of there. Being there without Goose is just too much. There’s too many eyes on him, and he’s letting too many people down. He doesn’t feel like an aviator anymore, and he knows he needs to leave before he hurts or kills anyone else. That’s how he finds himself at the airport. He’d sat down to rest while he decided where he needed to go, and hadn’t realized he’d been dozing off. Charlie’s appearance is a shock to his system though. 

“Let’s go get him.” 

“Excuse me?” Pete jerks at her voice. He has no clue what she’s doing there and he definitely doesn’t want to see her. “May I?” 

Despite not wanting to see her, Carrie raised a polite man, so he nods. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says when the waitress walks up. He can see a blonde figure watching from right inside the door, and Pete holds in his sigh knowing Tom won’t step in for fear of giving anything away to Charlie. He shouldn’t be surprised Tom found him either, but he is a little surprised Tom came after him. He clues back in when Charlie questions his drink; “Hemlock is it?” 

“Ice water,” he gets out quietly. 

She acts like she doesn’t believe him and it grates on his thin frayed nerves. He just clenches his jaw to keep from saying something smart. 

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” He’s not sure why she still thinks he owes her something. 

“I heard you got that job in Washington,” he says instead. “Congratulations,” he tacks on, again hearing Carrie’s voice in his head about manners. 

“Thanks. But I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.” Her hand on top of his makes him cringe, so he subtly pulls it back into his lap. He wants out of this conversation so bad it’s making his skin itch. He glances back to where he knows Tom is waiting, wishing the asshole would come end this conversation. He tries to be dismissive, tries to get her to see he wants no part of this, but she just won’t relent. 

“You don’t even have a ticket do you?” 

What the fuck it is to her, he has no idea. He glances around the airport once more, his eyes landing on Tom, but not long enough for her to notice. He knows his eyes are pleading, but he turns back as she starts talking once more. 

“Listen, I’ve seen all the evidence, and it’s not your responsibility. It’s not your fault.” 

He’s so sick of hearing that statement it’s not even funny. He won’t even look at her now; he doesn’t need her placating statements or her assessment of his flying anymore. Her voice is grating on him, so he totally shuts down. He can tell by her change in voice it pisses her off, but he can’t bring himself to care; manners be damned , he thinks.

“You’re one of the best pilots in the Navy. What you do up there is dangerous. But you’ve got to go on.” 

“No you don’t understand,” he says softly, hoping she’ll get the fucking hint and leave. 

“When I first met you, you were larger than life.” It’s almost a sneer, and Pete hopes she’s finally got the fucking hint that he’s so done. “Look at you.” 

Pete is getting pissed, and he knows he’s going to say something he can’t take back, but she just won’t quit. “You’re not going to be happy unless you’re going Mach two with your hair on fire, you know that.” 

“No. It’s over. It’s just over.” He makes it sound as lifeless as possible.

“To be the best of the best, you make mistakes and then you go on. It’s just like the rest of us.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he growls. He can finally see Tom moving towards them, and Pete curses him for not doing it sooner. 

“I’m here to help!” 

“If I wanted help, I would’ve asked for it.” He blows out an aggravated breath as her eyes scan the room. When they land on Tom walking towards them she scoffs. If he won’t take help from me, there’s no way he’ll listen to his arch rival , she thinks. 

“So I’m too late!” She carries on with more nonsense, but Pete tunes her out. His jaw is clenched so tight when she makes a dig about him quitting, like his dad . She doesn’t say it, but it’s heavily implied and Tom has finally had enough. “That’s enough!” His voice booms in the quiet room, and Charlie just rolls her eyes. 

“He’s already gone,” she scoffs. “Not like he’d listen to you anyways.” 

Tom doesn’t dignify that with a response and she stomps out of the airport. Good riddance , he thinks. He’d heard more of their conversation than he’d liked and he mulls over how to approach Pete as he makes his way to him. 

“Water you say?” Tom asks, nodding to Pete’s drink as he sits down letting him know he’d heard the previous conversation, even though Pete had met his eyes more than once. He gives Tom a nod and then he’s ordering one as well. They just sit there, Mav almost asleep on the table and Tom watching him. 

“Can I take you home? Get some sleep in a bed instead of this table?” His voice is soft like when they’re sneaking time just the two of them, and it makes Pete want to cry.

“Won’t sleep. Can’t sleep. I’m fine.” 

Tom’s hand closes around Pete’s forearm giving it a squeeze. He doesn’t give a fuck in that moment that they’re in public. Pete is his only concern. “You’re not fine, but that is ok. You shouldn’t be expected to just be fine after everything.” 

Pete cracks his eyes open and just watches his boyfriend, if he can even still call him that after the last couple of weeks of Pete avoiding him. “Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” He wants to scream that he loves him, that he cares about him, but he refrains. It’s not what Pete needs to hear in this moment. 

“Afraid of having no competition Ice man?”

Tom snarls at that, his icy glare boring into Pete. He knows Pete is just lashing out because of the conversation with Charlie, but it still stings. “No, asshole. You know better.” 

“Do I?” 

He takes a deep breath, counting to ten before replying. “You should.”  Pete seems to deflate before his eyes meet Tom’s once more. “I know things have been a lot. I know you’re not sleeping. But please…. Let me take you home right now? If you still want to leave after some sleep, I’ll bring you back and book the ticket myself.” 

Pete eyes him for several long minutes, before he finally gives in with a nod. Tom lets out a relieved breath, before he pulls Pete up and out the door. He takes the bike keys out of Pete’s jacket and tosses them to Slider as they head for Slider’s truck. “Thanks,” he whispers to his best friend, who just gives him a nod. Pete is asleep before they’re out of the parking lot. 

Tom carries him in and tucks him into bed once back at their housing. Slider hits the couch, and Tom isn’t the least bit surprised when Pete tries to cling to him when he goes to leave. He gives a small smile even though Pete is still asleep, and slides into bed with him. Pete sleeps like the dead, the exhaustion finally winning out. It’s early the next morning, the sun not even up yet, when Pete wakes. Tom rouses easily when he feels Pete moving, and he pulls him against him, barely kissing his forehead. 

“Morning,” he whispers. 

“Morning.” Pete’s voice is gravelly and Tom moves to get him some water. Pete gives him a small smile as he drinks it down before curling back into the blankets. Tom lays back with him, his arm stroking up and down Pete’s back in comfort. He’s thought over his words very carefully since yesterday, not wanting to make things worse or scare Pete off once more. “I know you’ve been avoiding me and I know you want to quit.” He feels Pete tense under him, and he barely holds in his sigh. “But I don’t think you should quit. You’re a talented pilot Pete, and the accident was not your fault. I know you think it is, and I know no matter what anyone says, you’re going to blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault.” 

“Then who’s was it?” His voice is so small, and Tom knows he’s just looking for somewhere to place the blame so he can absolve himself of the guilt he can’t let go. 

“Mine.”

Pete shoots up, hovering over Tom, his head already shaking in denial. 

“How so?” Tom asks. His hand has not stopped rubbing up and down Pete’s back the whole time. 

“It wasn’t yours Tom.” 

“Explain it to me. How was it not mine?” 

“You’re not the one who lost control and couldn’t get it back!” 

“No. But you didn’t lose control Mav. You flew through jet wash. A freak accident that could happen to any of us. I know you did your best to regain control in the spin. But it wasn’t possible.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Pete sinks back down in the bed, his head resting on Tom’s chest.

“It was my jet wash Pete. I took too long to make the shot. If I had just got out of your way the first time maybe things would be different.” 

Pete struggles to find an argument for that, but he’ll be damned if he lets Tom carry any guilt for this when it wasn’t his fault. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“It wasn’t yours either.” 

They lay there in silence, Pete sinking further into the comfort of being with Tom once more. 

“Does your family know?” Tom eventually asks because he doesn't remember seeing anyone out of the ordinary at the hospital or the funeral. 

“Yea.” 

“All the details?” 

“Yea,” Pete whispers. 

Tom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it would do you some good to pay them a visit?” Tom suggests. He’s not sure what their relationship is like, but he remembers how carefree Pete was when he returned from family dinner after the volleyball match. Tom’s willing to risk anything at this point to help Pete. 

“Maybe. I’ll think it over.” 

Tom just nods and Pete ends up drifting back off in the silence. Tom manages to pull him out of bed around lunch and between him and Slider they’re able to get Pete to eat some pizza. He ends up curled in the corner of the couch watching a baseball game after, and then he’s crawling back in bed around sunset. They didn’t try to force too much on him that day, knowing he needed rest more than anything. 

Tom is surprised to find Pete still awake when he crawls into bed a little later. 

“I used the phone in here earlier.” 

“Ok?” He can tell Pete is nervous, but he’s not sure why.

“I took your advice. I think… I think I’m going to go home for a visit tomorrow.” 

“I think that’d be good for you.” Tom softly kisses his forehead as Pete finally relaxes once more and cuddles close. 

“I’d love for you to come with me,” Pete whispers in the dark. “But it’s… I’m protecting you too.” 

“I know Mav. Maybe one day, when you’re ready.” 

“Yea… maybe.” 

It’s not long after that Pete drifts off into another deep sleep. 

The next morning, Pete heads back over to his place to clean up and change clothes before his visit. He wasn’t lying when he said he wished Tom could come with him, but right now it’s too risky. He knows he still looks like death, and Carrie is going to fret, but he can’t change it. He throws on his jacket and his aviators before jumping on his bike and taking off. 

Once there, he notices his sister’s car in the drive as well and he sighs. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever inquisition Cat will bring, and heads for the front door. He tries to remind himself that it’s a good thing he’s here, but he just feels weighed down and nervous. He knows he’s probably been a huge disappointment to Mike the last week and half, and it’s killing him inside on top of losing his brother. After another deep breath on the stoop, he rings the doorbell - something he rarely does, heart in his throat. He's not surprised when Carrie answers. "Pete? Oh honey come in. You know you never have to knock."

He steps through the door, and before he can say anything she's pulling him into her arms. "Pete. Just breathe," she whispers, holding him tight. 

"Mom," he chokes out. 

"Jamie honey go help your sister," Carrie calls over her shoulder knowing Pete wouldn't want his siblings seeing him break down. 

"It's ok. You're ok," she whispers over and over, rubbing his back. "I'm here Pete. You're ok." 

He clings to her, breathing in the familiar scent as tears roll down his cheeks. He hears the stairs creak and knows Mike is coming down. He tries to pull back and straighten up, but Carrie just holds him tighter. "No. Right now you're here as our son. You stay right here as long as you need."

Pete's never been able to tell her no, so he stays right there until he feels his heart rate settle. "You're staying for dinner," she tells him, when he finally pulls back. She cups his cheek and gently wipes his tears. "Yes mam." 

She gives Mike a stern look before she leaves them. "C'mere kid." 

He breathes a huge sigh of relief when Pete still sinks into his hugs like when he was a kid. He’s careful of Pete’s fading bruises, but he holds him tight. Watching him struggle this week has almost broke Mike. He rests his chin on the top of Pete’s head. “I’m so glad you came home.” 

“I…. I’ve been so mad at you!” 

“I know. I know.” He lets out another sigh. “So has your mom kid.” 

Pete can’t stop the snort of laughter at that. Carrie has always been protective of him, so he’s not really surprised by that. 

“I…. I don’t know what to do Dad.”  Mike’s heart breaks hearing such uncertainty and heartbreak in his kids voice. 

Mike gently squeezes the back of his neck before he steers him towards his study. It’s been so long since Pete has actually called him “Dad” so he soaks it in for a minute. He settles on the couch beside his kid, weighing his words. 

“I heard you were gone,” he starts with. 

“Charlie?” 

“Mmmm. So I’m curious what brought you back?” Mike’s watching him carefully and it makes Pete nervous. Mike didn’t really believe much of what Charlie told him, but he also wants to see what Pete says about it.

“I….” Pete chews on his lip and stares out the window. “I couldn’t leave without telling Mom bye. She’d never forgive me.” 

“This is true. But…” Mike reaches over and squeezes his knee bringing Pete’s attention back to him. “But you wouldn’t ask me what to do if you were really leaving.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Pete… You’re not here as my Lieutenant. You’re here as my son…. I hope,” he tacks on at the end quietly. 

“I am. I just… It’s already dangerous enough that the brass might find out you took me in. How you’ve kept it a secret this long and kept it out of the inquiry, I don’t know. Them not knowing protects us both and I…” he gets up to pace unable to sit still any longer. “I’ve already almost cost you a lot. I’m no good just like everybody says and if I tell you…” 

Mike cuts him off at that; he spins Pete to face him, gently cupping his cheeks. “Don’t ever say that about my kid again. You are perfect the way you are Pete and if people can’t see that, then that’s their loss.” 

Pete gives him a feeble nod. 

“We’ll tell you as long as it takes, just like when you were a kid. But you are perfect just the way you are.” 

“If I tell you, I’m just asking you to keep more secrets, more things you’ll think you have to protect me from. That’s not fair to you.” 

“You’d be surprised at the things a parent would do for their kid. I know you probably don’t remember it, but I told you in the hospital if it came to you or the Navy, I’d pick you every time. That hasn’t changed kiddo. Never will.” 

Pete absorbs the words and knows they’re true. Mike would sacrifice it all for him, even if he doesn’t deserve it.  “It was Ice,” he whispers, his gaze dropping to the floor. “He came in right behind Charlie.” 

“Mmmm. I had a feeling.” 

Pete’s head jerks up at that, but Mike quickly reassures him. “Don’t. It’s just because I know you son. Nothing is obvious.” 

Pete lets out a deep sigh, his body sagging almost as if his strings had been cut once more. 

“Come on let’s take a walk. Get you some fresh air.”  

Pete follows him out the back door into the yard overlooking the ocean. He hates how close the neighbors are, but that’s base living for you. He briefly wonders where Jamie is running off to so close to dinner, but his head is quickly drawn back to Mike. He hasn’t been able to go near the ocean since the accident, but breathing in the salty air he grew up with, relaxes him. “You have two options. First you’ve acquired enough points to show up and graduate with your Top Gun class. Or… you quit. There’d be no disgrace in quitting Pete. That spin was hell. It would’ve shook me up. Hell listening back to it shook me up. Not just because you’re my kid either.” 

Pete stares out over the ocean, trying hard not to let the accident play in his mind. Mike’s hand on his shoulder draws his attention back once more. “So you think I should quit?” he asks less confidently than he’d like. 

“I didn’t say that Pete. I’m just laying out your options. But… you feel responsible for Goose, and you’ve been off your game. You’ve lost your confidence. I know you know this Pete, but a good pilot is always compelled to evaluate what’s happened so he can apply what he’s learned. Pushing it in the air is our job. We have to do it. It’s why I put you right back up once you were cleared. As a father, I would’ve never even considered it. As your CO, I had no choice. I had to push you.” He pauses as he considers whether to keep pushing in that moment, but thinks better of it. Pete’s had enough pushing since the accident. It’s time to just let him be.”I can’t make this decision for you kid. But I can say I will support whatever decision you decide. So will your mom.” 

Before Pete can answer he feels little arms wrap around his legs and he looks down to see his adorable niece clinging to him babbling in her little gibberish. “Well hey there Cin,” he grins, lifting her into his arms. He’d given her a nickname just like he’d given her mom when he’d been a kid. It was something just for them and it always made him smile knowing Cat let him get away with it to make him feel comfortable. Mike smiles watching Pete relax into himself and smile for the first time in weeks. 

“I’m guessing someone escaped from your sister,” Mike laughs, as they turn to head back into the house. 

His older sister is standing on the back steps with her hands on her hips. “Sorry. Someone was determined to see you.” 

“It’s alright. I’m glad she found me.” He tickles her belly, drawing out a giggle before Cynthia buries her face in his neck babbling “Mab” over and over. Mav was easier to say than Pete so they’d taught her the shortened version of his callsign for now. 

“I’m glad you're home,” she says softly, drawing Mav into a hug, squishing her daughter between them. 

“Just for dinner. You know I can’t be here much.” 

“Still. I’m glad you’re here.” 

He follows her into the kitchen where Carrie is finishing up dinner. “Where’d Jamie run off to earlier?” 

“The beach. She’ll be back.” 

Mav bounces Cin in his arms to hear her giggles once more. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to step back onto the beach or in the ocean ever again. 

“She got a boyfriend she was meeting?” Cat asks, causing Mav to freeze. 

“Nope. Nope. No. We are not doing this. No. It was bad enough when you started dating and got married. Baby sis is not doing this too.” 

“Like you can stop her. Couldn’t stop me. Besides, she's eighteen now, Mav.” 

“Oh I can talk her out of it. Just you wait.” 

Cat rolls her eyes and takes Cin from him. “Well go for it little brother,” she smirks pointing towards the beach. She’s calling his bluff and he knows it. 

“Fine!” he huffs as he stomps out. Carrie and Mike join her at the door to see if he’ll actually do it, all three holding their breath. He gets to the edge of the sand and freezes, his eyes staring at the waves. He feels his lungs start to burn making him realize he’s holding his breath, but he can’t seem to draw in any air. 

“Damn it Catherine. I told you not to push him just yet. I’ve done enough of it the last few weeks.” 

“Dad. You know he’s gotta work through this.” 

“Antagonizing him to go to the beach wasn’t the way.” 

“I got it,” she tells him with an eye roll, passing Cynthia off to Mike as she goes out the door. She walks up behind her brother, carefully wrapping her arms around him. She rests her head against the back of his neck as she keeps tightening her arms. “Just breathe Pete. Follow my breaths.” 

It takes several, several minutes, but he does end up matching her breathing. “Cat?” he chokes when he doesn’t feel like the world is going to fade to black. 

“I’m here. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought if I made it a challenge you could do it. I shouldn’t have pushed.” 

“I…” 

“It’s ok. I see Jamie coming back now. Let’s go back in and you can wear my child out so she’ll sleep like a rock tonight ok? She doesn’t get enough time with her Uncle Mav, so let’s give her all the time possible.” 

He gives a nod and lets his sister spin him back towards the house. “We’ll tag team Jamie after dinner too,” she smirks, letting out a relieved breath when Pete smirks back at her. “But first, please tell me you have someone and you’re not losing yourself in the Navy?” 

“Uhhhh not really been top priority there sis.” 

“So the blonde at the funeral that couldn’t leave your side isn’t your other half?” 

Pete freezes once more causing Cat to sigh. “Would you stop doing that?! Dad is going to have my head.” 

“What… Cat… you…” 

“Relax! It’s just me. Your big sis, your secret keeper, your partner in crime? Remember me? You know you can tell me anything Pete and it stays between us.” 

“It would ruin his career if it got out. He’s got big dreams, and he deserves to reach them. Why he’s wast....” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growls. “You’ve never been a waste Peter Duke Mitchell-Metcalf and you never will be.” His big sister has always been overprotective of the sacred little boy that came into her life as her little brother. Some things never change. He also knows she’s really good at keeping secrets for him, even if he hates he has to ask her to keep this one if he wants to be honest with her. 

His head falls to her shoulder as he softly sighs. “Fine. Yes. Tom and I have been seeing each other since like the first day of class.” 

“So almost six weeks. I believe that might just be your longest yet,” she teases. 

“Oh fuck off,” he laughs as he pushes her away. 

“Don’t be letting your niece hear you talking like that!” 

“Like you don’t cuss like a sailor too?!” 

They reach the back door and Cin comes running back to Mav. “Hi sweet baby. Let’s go play til Gigi is ready for us to eat.” 

“My Mab,” she babbles, squishing his cheeks between her tiny hands. 

“Yea I’m all yours princess.”

The night turns out to be just what Mav needs, and when he leaves, he’s the most relaxed he’s been in two weeks. He heads back to Tom’s base housing, knowing he can’t go to his alone right now. Slider is perched on the couch watching a game, and Tom is in the kitchen when he enters. 

“Hey pipsqueak,” Slider calls as Mav heads straight through to the kitchen. He’s still not sure how to handle Slider being extra nice to him, so he just nods and keeps going. 

“Hey,” Tom smiles over his shoulder at him. 

Mav walks over and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Tom’s back. “Hey.” 

“Feel better?” 

“Some.” Tom spins in Pete’s arms and tilts his boyfriend’s face up to him. 

“You look more relaxed,” he murmurs softly before giving him an even softer kiss. 

“Both of my sisters and my niece were there. Cin is… She’s two and she’s really good for somebody.” 

“Mmmm yea I bet. Carole stopped by with B. Told her you’d gone on a visit. She said to call her.” 

He feels Pete tense in his arms but he just keeps talking. “W… Wh…Why?” Pete finally gets out. 

“Why what babe?” 

“Why’d she… why would she…. Why call her?” 

Tom softly cups Pete’s cheeks as he stares into the eyes he loves so much. “Sweetheart, why wouldn’t she be looking for you or wanting to talk to you? She said she hasn’t heard from you in two weeks and she’s worried.” 

“I… I … Why? I killed Nick! I took her husband, Bradley’s dad! Why would she want anything to do with me?!?!?!?!” 

Tom sees Ron in the doorway, having come when Pete started yelling. Tom was at a loss on what to say though because Carole and Bradley were Pete’s family. 

“Because she’s worried about you, Mav. You’re like her brother. Bradley’s uncle. Bradley was looking all over for you here because he misses you. They don’t blame you,” Slider said softly. 

Pete turned, staring at him with wild eyes. “I killed Nick!” 

Slider walked closer, but kept some distance so Pete didn’t feel caged in by them. “No you didn’t. It was a freak accident. The board ruled on it. Viper’s told you that. We’ve told you that. No one… absolutely no one blames you. Everybody knows how much Goose meant to you and that you would never do anything to harm him. It was not your fault.” 

“Sli’s right,” Tom whispers into his neck where he’s holding him tight. “We’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, but it wasn’t your fault.” 

“It feels like my fault,” he cries, sagging in Tom’s hold. 

“It feels like ours too,” Slider says. He walks closer wrapping them both in his arms, both of them hugging Pete as tight as they dared knowing he was still sore. Once Pete is all cried out, Tom takes him to shower while Ron calls Carole with Pete’s permission to bring Bradley back over. 

It’s a night of more tears, of healing, of meaningful conversations reaffirming Pete’s place in their life as Carole’s brother and Bradley’s uncle. Bradley even falls asleep in Pete’s arms, and no one has the heart to move him. Graduation is in two days, and still no one knows exactly what Pete is going to do. 

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 153

Hi people, it's time to do an update on this week's writing progress. Stay tuned for a sneak-peek for Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: Doctor Robotnik is simultaneously touch averse and touch starved, which results in a plan to "get the touching needs over with" in the most efficient way he could think of: cuddles overnight, when he wouldn't be doing anything useful anyway. Agent Stone was not privy to the plan until they arrived at their hotel room for their business trip.

Progress: Chapter 2 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 23rd of November. Chapter 3 is finished and will be posted on 30th of November aka next Thursday. Chapters 4 and 5 are also finished :D

Originally this was supposed to be a threeshot, but chapter 3 got so long that I cut it into two chapters, and chapter 4 reached the desired word count perfectly naturally, so it was clearly a necessity. Chapter 5 just kind of wrote itself, it's a shorter epilogue chapter that the fic didn't really need, but now that it's there it perfects it, so turns out the fic did need it, I just didn't know it. Anyway, it's all written now and only needs to be posted.

—–

I'm Signing in the Drain

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary): Not many people know this, but Doctor Robotnik is actually deaf and uses hearing aids to make up for it. Agent Stone does not know this, he just kind of assumes he's told to learn sign language upon being assigned for some other, mysterious reasons, and not as a "just in case" measure.

Progress: This fic will have at least three chapters, maybe four, maybe more (if I decide I actually want to do more with this concept than my initial idea, because the potential is there). The second chapter is almost done. The first chapter is now about 1/3 done.

I'm actually not sure if this fic will end up being Stobotnik aside from Stone being Big Gay as usual, cause Robotnik is being very aroace right now and I don't know if he'll give Stone a chance or not, as that is not really the point of the fic. We'll see how this shapes up.

—–

SBLF (workname)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary):

Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you. 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be a longfic, probably around 20 chapters. It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change. Or I might cut this into two fics in a series, because quite honestly, it's two stories in one package (that is, half of it is pre-canon and half post-canon, so you know, could easily have two fics.) My writing hours will be devoted to this fic.

I have the first three chapters completely written now. Chapter 4 is half done. I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (they're scenes that will be slotted in to wherever they feel natural, once we get Stone settled in.)

—–  

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

It was a perfectly average day at Doctor Robotnik’s laboratory. No business trips, no missions, no field tests, nothing but staying at the lab. Stone’s workday would be from ten to six, he’d do his usual everyday work, no meetings scheduled, no presentations, no visitors, no deadline crunches.

Simply a regular Thursday.

Except it was going to be anything but.

When Stone came in for the day, the lab smelled off in a way that was hard to define. Curiously, he walked up to the big crossroad that divided the lab building into two distinct halves and sniffed the air, pinpointing that the smell was coming from the left corridor, which meant the origin was likely the testing lab. Upon entering it, he could immediately see the cause of the smell: the large steel glass cabinet where the doctor tested various weapon proofnesses of his prototypes was covered in soot, metal bits, and chemical splatter. In short, the machine he had worked on yesterday when Stone clocked out had exploded upon testing.

Stone cringed in sympathy. That was days of careful work gone up in smoke just like that. At least he hadn’t been here to get yelled at for it.

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

[yolowritter]

A Case of Ladybug Luck Chapter 4

Hello there everyone, and welcome back to Hell! Holy Nooroo it's been so long since I posted abt this AU. Mostly because I'm busy actually writing it and 300k words are apparently nowhere near enough to finish what I started a year ago! Anyway, I'm just going to do a speedrun of posting these early chapters because I want to get to the good stuff already! Believe me, it's worth! So, from now on I won't have a note at the beggining of this, just the snippet and chapter link, kay? Cool! Asks are open btw if anyone wants to chat about ACOLL! Enjoy my suffering!

Nathalie was curled up on the couch, definitely asleep. She looked pale, the same way Marinette would pale when she was worried about him. Like she’d literally been worried sick. His father was sitting in an armchair beside her, reading a book. Gabriel didn’t notice his approach. One of them had wheeled out a TV from the guest rooms down the hall, and it was tuned in on…the news? TVI, it looked like, and they were on an add break. Adrien took a deep breath to steady himself, to throw the image of his seething father almost breaking the dinner table with his fist, right out of his mind.

Gabriel glanced at the screen, stared at the advertisement, something about a new hair product, and went back to his book. It had a full black cover, Adrien noted as he approached. Gabriel heard his footsteps, used a bookmark to not lose the page he was on, and shut the book, placing it next to him on the chair. For a moment, Adrien saw the title. “The Illusion of Living.” Wow. Macabre, much?

“G-good morning father.”, Adrien tried as a greeting. This…was weird. He wasn’t used to seeing his father relax…or at all, to be honest. He looked uninterested, indifferent. Gabriel glanced at the TV, saw the news hadn’t come on yet, and turned to face his son.

“Ah, Adrien. Did you sleep well?”, he asked, seeming genuinely curious. Oddly, Adrien noticed his father wasn’t wearing his tie clip. The empty white spot where it should be drew his eye, but Adrien reigned himself in and nodded an affirmative.

“Yes. But…father, I don’t mean to disrespect you but…don’t I have a photoshoot today? Two hours ago?”, he asked, hesitant.

Gabriel’s expression shifted from his calm. Like a porcelain mask, the façade cracked, and for a single second Adrien thought he saw guilt and sadness in his father’s eyes. He looked so…forlorn. Defeated, even. Guilty.

He nodded, seeing that his father wasn’t going to say anything else. Adrien glanced at Nathalie, concerned. His father’s assistant, always a stern but constant presence…looked so frail. She looked like mom- like she desperately needed the rest. Gabriel sighed when he caught him staring.

“Nathalie is fine, son. She’s just tired. We had an…interesting morning.” A morning that nearly cost Gabriel his sanity, and some pocket change to top things off. Some 50.000 thousand euros to ensure the silence of the hospital staff and discharge him as soon as he was stable. He was fine, really. The problem wasn’t physical. Dizziness overcame him, suddenly. Emilie had said the same thing, once.

Adrien nodded again, not knowing what else to do. “I…Am I free for the day, then?”, he asked his father.

Gabriel didn’t even pretend to consider it. “Yes, free for the week. I’ve cancelled all your lessons and photoshoots. You’re…welcome to stay home, if you’d like. I’ve delegated my own duties for today, so if you require anything…please come talk to me.”, he said, sounding like the words struggled to leave his mouth.

“Adrien, remember. You are my son. I am your father. It’s my responsibility to make sure you are well. I will be there when you need me.”, Gabriel tried, testing the words. They sounded…right, this time. An odd sense of numbness washed over him again, and he turned back to the television. “You should go to your room, sleep some more. It’s been a long week for you, I’m sure.”, he added as an afterthought, his tone monotonous and dry. Almost robotic.

“…Right. I- I’ll go and lay down, then. Good morning, father.”

Gabriel blinked, as if the time was news to him. Right, the night was over. It was a new day, now. He didn’t feel like it. He barely felt like anything at all. “Of course, son. Now go.”, he insisted, eyes glued to the final, fading advertisement, before the screen switched to Nadja Chamack. Adrien obeyed and began to ascend the stairs again, and Gabriel unmuted the broadcast.

“Welcome back, Paris. As I said before, there have been no further news on the case. Poor weather conditions lasted all throughout the night, and police have had no luck finding any trace of…”

Adrien stopped in his tracks, midway up the staircase. He breathed deeply. “Father…did something happen?”, he asked hesitantly. Something had to have happened. This…couldn’t all be because of Lila, could it?

Gabriel’s eyes seemed to glance back at him, even though his head didn’t move an inch.

“We’re standing by for news on any new developments, and are hoping for the best. Please wait for more information.”

“Not to me. I’m fine.”, he said coldly, the air of indifference returning to his tone.

Adrien hoped it wouldn’t be followed by another outburst. He hung his head, and obeyed his father’s order, going back to his room. Maybe he could mess around with his piano? Last they’d met, Luka had given him some inspiration for a song. Hadn’t he said something about…masks? Adrien would have to text him, see if he remembered.

Plagg was there when Adrien opened the door, hovering over his unlocked phone. He looked…sad. Making a face of realization the same way Adrien would do when he could guess that more photoshoots would be added to his schedule. Like an inevitability had just come true. The kwami spun to face him when he came in, but Plagg’s face betrayed nothing of what Adrien had just seen.

“Hey kit! Morning! Wow, good thing your pops let us sleep in today huh? Say, I’m full of energy! How about we go for a run, huh? Get your muscles going?”, Plagg said, looking frantic and desperately pretending to be happy and excited. Adrien knew a thing or two about playing pretend.

Plagg never lied to him. Not unless something was very wrong, not after the Sandman incident. He’d promised. Plagg hadn’t lied to him since. Adrien let the worry he felt for Plagg show on his face. Words weren’t needed between them sometimes, and he didn’t think he should say what he could show. Plagg tried to keep his smile up. Adrien saw him strain himself, the widening of his eyes to look restless, the same expression he’d make when he got bored of flying around his room.

Adrien stared at him. Plagg stared back, a pleading look to please pretend he was oblivious, go along with it. After a moment, the Kwami faltered, and his mask broke.

“K-kid.”, he tried to speak, voice cracking as if his throat had been hit by a Cataclysm. “Do me a favor.”, Plagg begged him. Adrien had already opened his mouth to agree when his phone rang. “Don’t answer that. Please.”, Plagg insisted.

Adrien checked the caller ID. It was Nino. He shot Plagg a look. The cell rang again. Adrien ignored it to swipe down on the screen and check his notifications. 37 missed calls from Nino. 2096 unread messages. Half of those from Alya. What the fuck? The ringing seemed to get louder. Plagg’s whiskers dropped, his face fell.

Adrien reached out a hand to pet him, to offer comfort for whatever was wrong, but Plagg retracted. “Kit…I’m so sorry.”, he offered meekly, and flew up to his spot, curling up in a ball. Adrien thought he heard him sobbing. He picked up the phone, worried and confused. Why was his father acting like that? Why was Plagg acting like that?

Nino’s voice sounded horrible. Like he’d been crying. “A-Adrien?”, he asked, stuttering in near disbelief. “Thank fuck, are you okay? No, sorry, stupid question. How are you…holding up, dude?”

Okay, now Adrien knew something was very, very wrong. He tried to mask his fears with confusion. “Nino? What happened? I just woke up, are you okay?”, Adrien asked with genuine concern, trying not to panic. He’d kept himself together while fighting supervillains, he could get through one conversation without letting his worries eat him up.

Nino sobbed on the other end. Went silent. Adrien heard Alya’s voice, just barely, as if they’d moved the phone away from them.

“Nino…do we tell him?”, she asked, sounding frightened.

Nino failed to hold back a sob. “Babe…we have to.”

Nino moved the phone closer. “Uh…dude. You might want to check the news…”, he said awkwardly. Adrien was downright panicked now. He didn’t respond to Nino, he rushed back downstairs to his father, to the broadcast. What was happening? Why were his friends walking on eggshells around him? Had he done something? Did Lila do something?

“Please hold on, we’ve just received a statement from Officer Raincomprix. Stand by for-”

Gabriel had the book in his lap, reading calmly. Miss Chamack’s voice didn’t seem to bother him. She paused mid-sentence, and moved off screen.   

She came back into frame, looking like she was about to cry. Her professionalism was in shambles, Adrien saw the way her face twitched with silent tears, holding back the urge to sob.

“I- I regret to inform everyone that we’ve received official word from the Parisian Police Department. Marinette Dupain Cheng has been confirmed dead. It was ruled a suicide.”

[melodygatesauthor]

Weekly Update

07/30/2023

Announcements

- I’m writing an original fiction novel -

You read that right! I’m writing an original fiction called Lock & Key, and I’m taking all of you along my journey as I go through the process. I’m so excited to get started actually writing it soon (once I have a bit more of the outline finished) and I’ll be posting all updates on @lockandkeynovel!

This is a big project, and it’s going to take some time, but I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for all of you and your support. You all mean the world to me!

- No more requests -

I have 3 more requests left in my inbox, and once those are done that’s it for now. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be in a position to take requests again or not. My WIP list is a mile long, and right now (summer) is a VERY busy time for both of my jobs. I’m lucky if I get one day off a week. All this to say, it’s not feasible for me to continue taking requests when I can’t even handle the fics I have currently in the works. In fact, those 3 are folks who requested back at the end of APRIL, so…yeah…

I’m not saying I’ll never do requests again, it’s just not realistic right now. There will still be follower celebrations and birthday events and things like that in which I may take limited requests, but as far as the regular ones go, I gotta stop taking them for now.

Fic Updates

Disclaimer - I never know which way the winds of inspiration will blow. Timeframes aren’t a promise/guarantee, they’re a goal.

Fic Updates Legend:

Blue - Update this week

Pink - Update in progress

Red - Backburner Fic (not currently working on. See WIP list for status)

Chaptered Fic Updates

A Bit Dodgy - We’re back baby! I got chapter 14 hitting a Tumblr dash near you tomorrow at 8am! Thank you all for being patient. I’m hoping to be back to regular Monday updates, but we will see. I’ve worked SO HARD on this fic, along with my good friend @whatthefishh and I would hate to ruin it all by rushing through the ending. I would rather write it well and while inspired, than push through just to say I did it, you know what I mean?

Always Yours, Never Mine - Chapter 3 is on its way. This one had to be put aside while I was on the cruise, but i’m planning to work on it this week. I’m not sure if the update will come out this week or next though! Stay tuned!

The Fractured Moon - Part 3 is coming this week! - So I had a bit of confusion with this one in my own head. Let me explain haha…

I had already planned out the four parts for this fic a long time ago, and I spend hours in canva making the banners for each part. Each part was supposed to be centered around each boy. Part One (All boys) - Part 2 (Steven) - Part 3 (Jake) - Part 4 (Marc). Then I had some other ideas and plans that I wanted to work into the fic but was trying to figure out how I was going to do that without messing with the banners I made, so I planned to do 4 bonus chapters called “These Fractured Knights” all with the boys having their own bonus chapters. However, these chapters are all in line with the timeline of the fic, and it really makes more sense (and is less confusing) to just have them be part of the series normally as parts 3, 4, 5, and 6. (I hope I haven’t lost anyone yet).

That being said, I’m not going to call 4 chapters that fit in line with the story “bonus chapters” just for the sake of the banners I made, that’s my weird mental thing and idk why I do that. Once I’ve planned something, I HATE changing it. So I’m just going to make them fit in line with the fic like normal lol.

So anyway…

Part 3 is coming this week hehe.

Mini-series Updates

Feeling You Can’t Fight - I’m hoping to have a new chapter out this week, but I’m not really sure. This fic was supposed to be finished a month ago and I’m sad that I’m behind on it but I’m working on it!!

All on the backburner for now but will get additional chapters soon:

Not a Doctor - Part 2

Worth the Risk - Part 3

The Good Doctors - New Series

AI Character Bot Updates

I currently have the following bots on my list that I’m working on. If you have any suggestions or additions you’d like, please feel free to ask! I won’t make every single one I get asked for but I’ll make some of them as I get time!

Requests Updates

My 1k Follower Celebration ficlets ARE COMPLETE! - YAY! I AM going to be doing a 2k celebration (I’m like 50 followers away! Woot!), but it won’t include writing requests. I just don’t have time, sorry all! It will consist of games and other fun stuff though! Can’t wait!

I had 2 requests for Nathan Bateman, however I don’t feel overly inspired to write for him. That doesn’t mean I don’t like him, nor does it mean I never will write for him, but I just don’t want to have those requests sitting in my inbox while I figure that out. I still have them written down and I have the people who requested them written down so if I ever feel up to it again I’ll do it, but as of right now I don’t foresee it happening any time in the near future, and I just mentally needed to take it off my plate.

I’ll be working on the other requests between this week and next! I’m hoping to have them all out this week but that’s probably unrealistic lol. Thank you for all being so patient, and I love you!

That’s it for now! I love you all!

[foggyfanfic]

Mirabel's Super Secret Adventure

Movie AU

Chapter Preview: Dolores blinked, a glimmer of something passing over her face before it went blank. Mirabel waited, but Dolores didn’t respond.

“Oh come on, you have to know something! Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra were talking about it just last night. And there’s no way you haven’t heard Tío Bruno wandering in the walls,” Mirabel pressed.

Prologue Prev Next Masterlist

4. Hear No Evil

Mirabel dropped the bundle of clothes off in her room then rushed out the door. She needed to talk to Dolores pronto, not because she had some sort of deadline, but because the mystery of it all was the most interesting thing to have happened to her ever.

She made it two steps out of her room and almost barreled into Abuela.

“Oh,” she quickly took a step back.

“Mirabel, careful,” Abuela admonished, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Right, sorry Abuela.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Oh, um, I actually wanted to talk to you!” Mirabel put on her biggest grin, “Luisa and I wanted to have a cousins’ day in her pool next week, to welcome Mariano into the family.”

“What a marvelous idea,” Abuela clapped her hands together once, “I will talk to Luisa tonight, so we can iron out the details.”

“Um, I-I could plan it,” Mirabel said, daring to hope for a second, even though she knew what Abuela was going to say next.

“Oh no Mirabel, don’t trouble yourself, Luisa and I will take care of everything.”

“But-.”

“Now, aren’t you supposed to be getting some rest?” Abuela asked, gently putting her hand on Mirabel’s shoulder to guide her back towards the nursery.

“I-.”

“Sleep well,” she said with a warm smile as she bustled off to get things done. Mirabel watched her go, then sighed deeply. It was for the best, she told herself, she had stuff to do anyways.

Once Abuela was gone, Mirabel turned to the nearest wall and asked, “Alright Casita, where’s Dolores?”

Casita shook the floorboards one by one, leading up to Dolores’ door. Mirabel took a deep breath, reminded herself she had a mystery to solve, and jogged over to the door. She knocked out a little tune besides Dolores’ face, reclaiming some of her dampened enthusiasm.

Then she waited.

It took long enough that Mirabel had already raised her hand to knock again, when the door opened, revealing Tío Bruno.

“Tío Bruno,” Mirabel gasped, then tried to cover her shock by leaning against the railing and asking, “‘sup?”

Tío Bruno blinked owlishly at her for a couple beats, then shrugged his shoulders minutely and said, “Not much.”

“Right,” Mirabel nodded, and gave her uncle finger guns.

“Did uh, did you want to talk to Dolores?”

“I- sí, b-but I mean I can come back if-.”

“No,” Dolores suddenly appeared behind Tío Bruno, “Tío Bruno was just heading out.”

“Dolores,” Bruno sighed, a note of warning in his voice.

“Thank you, Tío Bruno, but I’m fine,” she said, quiet as ever, but nonetheless firm.

Tío Bruno huffed, and walked away grumbling, “At this rate I might as well change my name to Cassandra.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but give him a sympathetic smile as he passed her by, which he returned with a sort of exhausted fondness. When she looked back at Dolores, she was staring after Bruno, brows furrowed and eyes shiny.

Then, very abruptly, Dolores turned to Mirabel and said, “If this is about the pool party, I’ll have to sit it out. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Oh, actually I wanted to ask-. Um. I mean, we can push it back a week so you-.”

“That’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sí.”

“Bien,” Mirabel said slowly, drawing the single syllable out so Dolores would have a chance to change her mind.

Instead, Dolores asked, “You wanted to talk about something else?”

“Oh, um, yeah. I-,” it took a beat for her to get her mind back on track, “what do you know about the cracks?”

Dolores blinked, a glimmer of something passing over her face before it went blank. Mirabel waited, but Dolores didn’t respond.

“Oh come on, you have to know something! Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra were talking about it just last night. And there’s no way you haven’t heard Tío Bruno wandering in the walls,” Mirabel pressed.

Dolores sighed through her nose, “I know that Tío Bruno can’t figure out what’s causing them. He’s come up with hundreds of theories since-, over the years.”

“Anything else?”

Dolores shook her head minutely, eyes flicking beyond Mirabel’s shoulder then back to her face. Mirabel looked behind her, but couldn’t tell what Dolores had glanced at. All she saw was the opposite wall and the nursery door.

“How long ago did they start appearing?” Mirabel asked.

She shrugged, “They were already happening the day I got my gift. But they used to close before anyone noticed them, I thought it was just-. Casita doesn’t seem to mind so I didn’t think there was anything wrong until Tío Bruno started looking for them.”

“When did he start looking for them?”

Instead of answering the question, she frowned, staring at Mirabel for a long time. Suddenly she stepped back into her room and held the door open. Slowly, feeling a bit unsure, Mirabel walked through the door.

Dolores’ room was the epitome of coziness, most of it was covered in soft surfaces such as floor rugs, throw blankets, and tapestries. Somewhere behind one of those tapestries was what Camilo jokingly referred to as Dolores’ Sanctum of Silence, but nobody knew which one. And if somebody did happen to find the secret entrance, it would change locations. It made for a room that felt as quiet and secretive as Dolores herself. 

The only exception was the airy window seat crammed between two bookshelves on the wall farthest from the door.

When the door was gently closed behind her, Mirabel turned to give her cousin an expectant look, only to find Dolores staring contemplatively at her hand on the doorknob.

“When I first got my gift, Tío Bruno told Má not to let me listen to the Floréz farm. When she asked why, he told her that the eldest Floréz and his wife had been tricking Tío Bruno into having visions of them having sex ever since they got married,” she said, without looking up.

“What? Why?!”

“Some people like being watched, or listened to,” Dolores said, casually, as if this was no big deal, then she continued, “they started calling my name, saying they had a message for Abuela  about the monthly coffee delivery or something, anything to get me to listen to them. I would tell my Má and she would thunder, drowning everything else out. One day Pá went over to their house and after that they never did it again, but they also stopped giving us our monthly order of coffee.”

“That’s horrible,” Mirabel whispered.

Dolores just shrugged, she had a little bit more to tell, “Abuela figured out they were mad at us and demanded to know why. Má and Papa were worried about how she would take… whatever it is Pá did to make them stop. Then… Tío Bruno told her it was because he’d given them a bad vision. She made him apologize to them.”

Dolores paused for a long time, and Mirabel stood there, waiting. She knew Dolores must have some point, some reason for telling her this. Although she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

“Tío Bruno-. At the time I didn’t know why he did that, and I didn’t understand why he had to apologize. Even if he had given them a bad vision, it wouldn’t have been his fault,” Dolores finally looked up at Mirabel, giving her an intense look, “but it doesn’t matter if something is his fault, he’ll always be blamed anyways. That’s what happens when-, if you can’t live up to the village's expectations…”

Mirabel examined Dolores’ face, knowing her cousin was trying to tell her something, but not sure what. Dolores stared back, as if waiting for Mirabel to have an epiphany. Then she sighed and looked away again.

“Mirabel, let Tío Bruno worry about the cracks,” Dolores opened her door again, a clear dismissal, “for as long as you can.”

Mirabel’s feet carried her forward, through the door, even though she had about a hundred more questions. It was clear from the look on Dolores’ face that there would be no answers. The second Mirabel was out of the room, the door snapped shut behind her. 

She stood, dumbfounded and twice as confused as she had been minutes ago.

Eventually, she came to the conclusion that she had no other choice. Luisa’s room had been a bust, Dolores wasn’t helping, so she may as well try Isabela. She just needed to find her first.

When Mirabel knocked on Isabela’s door there was no answer, but she was pretty sure Isabela’s only chore for the day was to stay home and get ready to be proposed to. So where else would Isabella go? She wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the back garden. Camilo was gone for the day so she wasn’t hanging out with him. 

She asked Casita, but Casita just directed her back to the back door, so Mirabel checked the garden again. Still no primadona big sisters.

Mirabel looked over at Tía Leandra’s soap making shed. Apparently she used to have a soap making cave in Tío Bruno’s tower, but hadn’t had a way to keep young children out of it. Nobody felt great about having large amounts of lye sitting around the house where any small child might find it, so Casita had made a shed in the back garden that Tía Leandra kept locked when she wasn’t using it. She sold the soap in the market, one of the few sources of actual money for the Madrigal family.

The village generally traded for most everything, and most agreed that Julieta standing around the town square, healing people all day was worth a regular supply of things like fruit, vegetables, flour, and other such staples. For non-essentials like coffee (although Tío Bruno had made a pretty good case for coffee being considered an essential) Tía Pepa traded rainy days and sunshine. The non-essentials required more negotiating than the essentials, but not near as much as things like fabric and furniture, that stuff was given mostly in exchange for Luisa’s help around the village or visions from Tío Bruno.

In addition to bringing in some cash, Tía Leandra made all the soap the family needed, and had a close relationship with the goat herder since he’d apprenticed under her father, thus getting them free cheese. Tío Félix was technically supposed to inherit the mill, but had agreed to let his little brother, Felípe, take it so long as the Madrigals got a cut of the mill's profits. Her Pá was the son of an accountant (and the town’s de facto treasurer) and often traded his financial expertise for whatever his “clients”, mostly the town merchants, could offer. And recently, Camilo had taken to trading his time as a babysitter in a similar vein. But the main breadwinner in the family was actually Tío Bruno. 

Once a month he invited anyone in the village who wished to attend to watch a future scientific discovery in the sandy riverbed. At the end, if he had the energy, he would allow the audience to vote on a previous vision to re-watch. Since the tablet would be a duplicate he didn’t feel bad smashing it up and selling it to either the local jeweler or the town’s merchants.

If Mirabel could, she would happily sell some of her embroidery to help support the family, but any time she brought it up Abuela told her not to worry about it. It was all Mirabel could do to get Abuela to let her help with the family’s tailoring needs.

Mirabel and Isabela used to spend a lot of time in Tía Leandra’s shed, Isabela growing whatever herbs Mirabel demanded so they could experiment with different combinations (under close adult supervision from their Tía, of course). But that was a long time ago, back when Isabela was still nice to her.

The shed was unlocked, the door slightly ajar. It was sort of a long shot, but it was possible Isabela was helping their Tía make her soaps.

So, Mirabel drifted closer, reaching for the door.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Tía Leandra said to somebody inside.

Then, just as Mirabel’s fingers grazed the door handle she heard Isabela say in a defensive tone, “I’m not saying there is! I just… if Tío Bruno likes both, then I could like both too.”

Mirabel frowned, cocking her head. Like both of what?

“You could like both, true, but do you?”

“I-. Why are you trying to talk me out of this?”

“Because you’re my niece and I love you and I want you to be happy,” Tía Leandra said, her voice strained with how much pleading she’d imbued into it.

“I will be happy, Mariano is a great guy.”

Mirabel’s eyebrows almost jumped off her face.

“He is, sí. A bit thick for my taste, but there isn’t a shred of malice in his entire meaty body. But that’s not in question here. The question on the table is, do you want to marry him?”

Then there was a long resounding silence. Mirabel kept waiting for Isabela to say yes, of course she wanted to marry Mariano, she was in love with him. However after five seconds of silence, she realized that answer wasn’t coming.

After ten seconds of silence, Isabela sighed, “Well, it’s not like I can marry-. Mariano is my friend, a-and he’ll make a good father. And it’s what’s best for the Encanto.”

“Ay, so you’ve said, but that’s-. You know what! You need another perspective, you need to talk to somebody your own age about this,” Tía Leandra said, voice suddenly very bright and cheerful, “how about you talk to Dolores! Tell her you’re not in love with him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Dolores has been, I don’t know, she’s been really sad about something lately. She won’t tell me what,” Isabela hedged, “I don’t want to pile my problems onto her too.”

There was another long pause.

“Um, Tía, are you alright?”

“Fantastic,” Tía Leandra said, voice too high and cheery to be genuine, “will you excuse me, I need to have a conversation with my husband about something.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, right? You and Tío Bruno promised.”

There was a very noisy sigh, that may or may not have been released through Tía Leandra’s teeth, “No, but I think you should. Starting with Dolores. Excuse me.”

Mirabel should have realized that Tía Leandra essentially saying “excuse me while I go talk to Bruno” meant she was about to open the door and walk out of the shed. She should have moved out of the way if she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping. She should have walked away the second she realized how private this conversation was.

But she didn’t.

So, when Tía Leandra opened the door with a box of finished soaps on her wide shoulder and Isabela trailing at her heels, Mirabel was standing dumbstruck.

Mirabel gaped at Isabela.

Isabela stared back in horror.

Unnoticed by either of them, Tía Leandra looked heavenward and mouthed “Gracias.”

Then the shouting began.

[dethkomic]

Welcome Back! Next Update: 2/24/2023

Hey goofballs, and welcome to the return of Dethkomic!

Hope you enjoyed the first update -- I'm certainly trying to raise the stakes a little higher for our heroes this time around, and we haven't even begun to get exciting and interesting, yet. And hey! Thanks for coming back for another round of this stuff!

Anyway, a few notes for how things are going to go, this time around. This is both for those of you who are new and those of you who have been with us since day one:

Starting with a very important announcement...

The Casting Call is Now Open! (Closing Feb 28th!)

You will all recall last time when Dethkomic asked for submissions of your OCs to be featured as background/C-plot caharacters in the previous story... well good news! It's back!

I'm a little shorter on space this time, and we're a little more popular than before... still! I would like to feature some OCs as background characters! So:

If you DIDN'T have an OC in Dethkomic last time and want one of your OCs to show up in a scene of Dethkomic II, send 'em my way! I'll take entries for the next two weeks! Just one please! And you do the picking -- don't make me choose between multiples. I am terrible at that. :) Reference sheets with art are best, but I also take written descriptions, celebrity stand-ins, and that kind of stuff, too!

Next on the agenda...

What's the Update Schedule Going to Be?

Right now, I'm working far enough ahead to promise a new update pretty much every week-and-a-half. I'd wanted to do weekly, but I just couldn't swing it. I hope the effort is showing in the art/writing on this one... I'm definitely spending more time on it than I was able to, last time, and a buffer allows me to keep a consistent quality to the work produced.

Also -- I know last time we were doing 3-5 page updates, but this time around, expect every single update to be at least 5 pages! The story's a little more "involved" and any less would be extremely hard to follow. And so you may be wondering...

How Many Issues/Chapters Will Dethkomic II Be?

4 Issues, and at least 4 chapters a piece. I'd said previously that this story might be shorter than the previous Dethkomic, all told... but I wouldn't be surprised if things ended being similar in length.

Can We Send You Asks with Story Questions?

Hell yes. As always, I am stoked to answer them. Ask away, pals! I'll answer them during and between updates!

Any Other Surprises Up Your Sleeve, dethkomic?!

Plenty. Stay tuned. :)

So thrilled to be back again, sharing Dethkomic the 2st with you all. I believe you're in for a wild ride, so do buckle in. Most of all, I hope you have a good time... and remember:

Dethkomic loves you!

[forerussake]

one line any fic! rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people

I was tagged by the amazing @lynne-monstr thank you!! this one was a lot of fun! most of these are quite recent. tt became hard to pick, at some point i wanted to just include everything i’ve ever written, but that wasn’t playing nice :( some of these got a little long too, but “chunk” wasn’t very specific so i’m saying not my problem xD

1. Spirometer (DMBJ, Reboot, Pangxie)

“The same nightmare?” Pangzi asks, his voice soft and deep and so very warm, still a little rough with sleep.

He steps around Wu Xie, sits down on the edge of the bathtub, still easily within reach, one hand still on Wu Xie’s shoulder, the other not stopping its gentle motions in his hair.

Wu Xie nods.

“I couldn’t breathe,” he whispers, and he hates it.

2. in tune (Guardian, Weilan)

“Dark energy is not alive in the biological sense. It’s not an organism comprised of living cells, and yet it does live in a way. I don’t know how else to describe it. It feels alive. It’s a life force. I wouldn’t exist without it. It’s as integral to my existence as my brain, my nerves, my heart, my DNA.”

He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and tuning out the sound of the rain and the thunder outside, closer now, focusing on his own energy instead. He feels it humming under his skin, swirling around in his core and flowing through the rest of him, tingling at his fingertips.

“It’s almost like a symbiotic relationship,” he murmurs, opening his eyes and looking up Zhao Yunlan again, “except it really is a part of me. There’s patterns to it. Like energy signatures. Unique to every individual. Like frequencies of sound waves, or of light, except a thousand times more complicated than that. It’s– not uneven, but… it breathes. It’s alive. I can’t describe it any other way.”

3. As though the sun has come to call (Z1L RPF)

Zhu Yilong wishes sometimes that he had more time to spend with friends, and to visit his parents. He thinks he could probably make some more time for it if he tried. He doesn’t have to sprint from one project to the next, from filming to photoshoots to interviews and back to filming without end, at least until Chan-jie makes him take a break.

He doesn’t have to do that, but it is how he works. Choosing the noise to surround himself with instead of letting it wash over him until he drowns.

4. Kaleidoscope (Guardian)

“Why wouldn’t you?” one of them asks after a moment, and Deng Suyin looks back at her, then at her other friends, and then across the room at Li Qian and the professor, and then she bursts into tears.

Li Qian is frozen in place for a moment, wanting to come to xiao-Deng’s rescue but not quite knowing how. Professor Shen has no such doubts.

“Some people don’t,” he says, his voice firm and even, either consciously or unconsciously slipping into lecture tones, albeit a little softer, “and that is perfectly normal, and those people don’t have to have sex or get married anyway just to conform to what society has wrongfully deemed to be the norm.”

5. a hand within a hand (holding light), chapter 5 (Guardian)

Professor Shen looks frazzled. He looks exhausted and shaky and… upset? His jaw is clenched, lips pressed tightly together. There’s so much tension in his posture that it looks almost painful to Liu Chang. His fingers are clenched around the straps of his backpack in a white-knuckled grip, seemingly to keep them from shaking. He looks the most out of sorts Liu Chang has ever seen him. As if that sense of familiarity behind the concern Liu Chang saw in his eyes when he asked the professor for that extended deadline and the hidden tiredness he’s been observing for weeks and the sense of miserable restraint and longing he has seen in him during his conversations with chief Zhao, have all been combined into one and magnified by a factor of ten thousand.

from here on i was running out of space and had to start picking and choosing one thing from every fandom i’ve written for *wails*, under the cut!

6. With the changing of a thousand seasons (DMBJ, Mystic Nine, Fuba)

He can’t, because he’s the one who has to keep it together, who has to hold down the fort, until Foye is better and Erye is too, until Zhang Rishan has pulled himself together again, and madam Yin is able to stand still for long enough to take a proper breath for the first time since all of this nonsense started.

“He’s not going to die,” Qi Tiezui says, “he’s not going to die, he’s not going to die.”

And he’s aware his eyes are starting to fill up with tears and it’s making his glasses fog up, and every time he says those words they sound less like a statement and more like a question, more frantic, borderline hysterical, less and less like he actually believes them.

“He’s not going to die, he’s not going to die, he’s not going to die?”

7. A ballad of burning lungs and bated breath (Tolkien, Silmarillion)

“It’s always the same story, isn’t it?” Maglor scoffs. “It’s always time, or fate, there’s never a choice around here.”

Finrod looks like he wants to protest that statement, but Maglor doesn’t give him the chance to. Instead he mounts the brown horse, and leaves his cousin standing in the dust.

It takes a while for Finrod to catch up with him.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he says, as soon as he does, and Maglor wants to roll his eyes at him but can’t. Not when it’s that sentence. Not when it’s spoken in that tone. By a person with those curls in their hair.

8. Of stars and city lights and sun, of all the lights that lead us home (QZGS/TKA, Sun Xiang/XIao Shiqin)

“But how do you know?” Sun Xiang asks again, frustration seeping into his voice, frustration and fear, so much fear, and Xiao Shiqin can’t bear it. Just as much as he cannot say no to Sun Xiang anymore, he cannot bear to see him so afraid.

So Xiao Shiqin repeats:

“You just know. You look at them. Really look at them. And you know.”

Sun Xiang stares out the window some more, jaw clenched and throat bobbing as he swallows, his breath shaking as he exhales.

“You just look?”

Xiao Shiqin nods.

“You just look.”

9. In pieces yet at peace (YYM: DOE)

Killing Stone breathes in, a sharp gasping breath, surprised at the fire in Honey Bug’s words, the worry and pain and, yes, anger, anger not at him, but at the situation, at the darkness playing tricks on his mind. He can only nod.

“Then live,” she whispers, her voice shaky with tears, “Let me help you, and live.”

“Yes,” he says, “alright.”

10. Counting the promised as yet unbroken (MDZS/CQL, Nielan)

“Mingjue!” he howls, all thought of anything but his friend’s approaching death fleeing his mind.

He has never moved so fast in his entire life. Two steps he rushes up the hill, Baxia raised above his head, to kill, to save. He has never moved so fast in his life and yet he knows it is not enough. He wasn’t quick enough to get them to safety and now he won’t be quick enough to save his friend from being stabbed to death. He won’t be quick enough to keep his promise.

Time seems to slow as the soldier’s sword descends, getting ever closer to Mingjue’s chest, closer to the heart only barely still beating within it, closer to ending the life of one of the three people Xichen cares about the most in the entire world.

Tagging: @pangzi @stupid-lemon-eater @psychic-waffles @scaredysap @programmedradly @the-marron @lunarriviera @lucientelrunya @hils79 @sharkbeneaththelotus @elenothar if you want to do this :)

[sagemoderocklee]

Return to Sender (4/9) Chapter Four: In Transit Rating: Mature Fandom: Naruto Pairing: GaaLee, mentions of NejitTen, mild ShikaTema, implied KakaGai Characters: Rock Lee, Gaara Warnings: discussions of homophobia Word Count: 9,321 Summary:

The journey to Suna brings with it the burgeoning desire to change his mind, to turn back, to let Gaara find the letter...

But like always, Lee's determination wins out.

A/N:

And this will be the last update until November! I hope this chapter tides you over for the next two weeks and that y'all aren't too upset to be left on a bit of a cliffhanger. We'll return [to sender ;)] after Horror Fest!

In the meantime, please stay tuned for the horror fics, art, and more that will be dropping from the 28th to the 31st on @puregaalee If straight horror isn't your thing, there may be other sub-genres like horror/comedy during the event so don't let the fact it's a horror event put you off completely!

Anyways, until the next update!

CLICK TO READ!!!

[kalpasio]

An Engineer's Dream

Nap of Your Dreams

A Kalpas x Reader angst fic, chapter 4 below!

Walking down the hall to the Elysian Realm, your eyes were barely open, and the grip on your coffee was barely enough to keep it from slipping. Hare’s plan had fallen behind schedule, so Grey Serpent had called you back to your regular duties for the past week, pushing everyone to catch up. Aponia would probably send you several messages about taking care of yourself, if she didn’t outright lock you out of the system. And just this once, you agreed with her. You weren’t going down to the Realm to do more work, you were looking to spend the next three hours passed out on the couch.

Tipping your head back, you drank the final dregs of caffeine, hoping it would be enough to take you the few steps from the door to the lounge. Kalpas probably said something about your haggard appearance, but you completely tuned him out and dropped your cup in the trash. Shuffling over to the couch, you pried your eyes open enough to see there was someone in the way. You grumbled a ‘move’ that even you couldn’t make out and waited a whole two seconds before laying down anyway.

Kalpas could yell all he liked—and he did—but you were out like a light. Though you were unaware of it, you had just fallen with your head on his lap, his thighs now good for more than just looking nice. If it had really bothered him, Kalpas easily could have shoved you onto the floor and you wouldn’t even have stirred. Instead, he quit complaining and sat there sulking. An hour or so later, he was still in the exact same position, and the first thing Sakura saw.

Her appearance immediately caught Kalpas’ attention, his head snapping up to look at his friend. She gave him a smile before bringing her brows together and looking at you silently. There was a shrug, a scoff, and then he was looking away as though to say, ‘not my fault.’ When he spoke, one of Sakura’s ears flinched, worried about waking you, but Kalpas seemed unconcerned.

“They decided to lay down here. I was here first. They can go find their own couch.”

“You could move to another part of the couch,” Sakura spoke quietly while eyeing the literal meters of open seating available. There was another scoff in response, and she shrugged before taking some of the space for herself. It took several carefully crafted questions before she made any progress on understanding who you are, and through the whole thing, you didn’t budge.

It wasn’t until your phone went off several hours later, that you woke. Slamming your hand on top of the device, you gave an angry ‘hello’ that would have most hanging up. Unfortunately, the Grey Serpent calling you didn’t care about your grumpiness. Before you’d fully woken up, you were ordered to head back upstairs to help fix a mistake another engineer had made. The call ended without you having a chance to complain, causing you to turn your head and scream into your pillow.

At least until your pillow told you to stop. It took a few seconds for your brain to come to the conclusion that, no, your pillows don’t normally talk to you, and that hearing voices in your head would be safer than whatever you had gotten yourself into. Scrambling back, you saw Kalpas glaring at you, and someone new quietly laughing at the scene. All you could do was hope. Hope that she was a sim and not some random coworker, and that you weren’t about to end up dead.

It seemed that luck was on your side, just this once. Not only did the stranger introduce herself as Sakura, one of the thirteen Flame Chasers, she stopped Kalpas from lunging at you, and casually suggested you head to work. Not one to stand around and get killed, you took her advice and booked it out of the Elysian Realm.

“Typically, we give signets to successors we deem worthy. Seeing as how half of the Realm isn’t functional right now, I see no reason not to answer your questions instead.” Sakura always seemed to speak in a smooth tone, yet you could tell she herself was as sharp as they come. Kalpas might burn you to a crisp or beat you to a pulp, but the MANTIS in front of you could cut off your arm without you even noticing.

Speaking of ‘burning to a crisp,’ the Elysian Realm’s resident angry man was staring at you as though his gaze alone could cause you to catch fire—which wasn’t entirely out of question. Sakura had been speaking with him by the large table on the opposite side of the hall from the lounge. When you came in, she called you over and hid a slight laugh while explaining what they had been talking about. Apparently, refusing to be helpful was just Kalpas being Kalpas, and most other Flame Chasers—Sakura included—were much more willing to tell you what was going on.

“Though,” she hesitated a moment. “My knowledge may not be as complete as the others.” At your confused expression, she continued, “I was the first to stop receiving updates to my sim, so most of what I know about the end is from the others.”

“I’m sorry,” you felt bad bringing up such unpleasant memories, even if it was unintentional. Clearly there was more to it than the ninja let on, but you certainly weren’t going to push right now.

“It’s well in the past,” she brushed off your apology without a single change in her face. Kalpas seemed more upset than her, his glare harsher than before. You had a mountain of questions, but they could wait. Giving a look to both MANTISes, you excused yourself to the workshop, taking a moment to breathe and sort your thoughts.

Sakura was more willing to talk than you expected. The next day when you were eating lunch, she sat with you while Kalpas stood off to the side brooding. That day you learned about Cocoon, and what Fire Moth was really trying to do. You learned how Sakura got her—very cute—ears, and how she met Kalpas and Aponia. When she mentioned the Deep End, she sent several glances to her friend, but he remained silent as you both spoke. Eventually, he kicked you out, angrily asking why you weren’t getting your work done, which only made you roll your eyes. Everyday after that, however, you got a history lesson, and slowly the Elysian Realm became a real place and not just an abandoned hall.

All the projectors in the main room were fixed, only the ones for Helixcraft—the official name of the workshop you’d taken over—remained broken. That was intentional. Anytime you came out to install a repaired unit, Kalpas was following you, and either harassing you about your work, or demanding you fight him. Even Sakura couldn’t stop him, so you found refuge in the shop. That didn’t mean Kalpas wasn’t outside the door while you worked, but at least he wasn’t in the room with you.

Varsha’s program was diligently chipping away at the corruption in the Flame Chaser files, while you got to work repairing the battlegrounds. This part you were actually glad to have Kalpas around for. More than once, malfunctioning mechs had started running towards you while you stood high on a ladder working.

Having your own bodyguard meant you didn’t get smushed like a pancake, and he got the fight he’d been asking for—a win-win in your book. Sakura was also happy to have him out of her hair for a few minutes. She could leave to have some space, but invariably, Kalpas would complain about her absence, making the small bit of peace more a pain than it was worth.

You were just leaving the battlegrounds for lunch when the third sim appeared. Kalpas laughed when he saw who it was, and practically doubled over when you tensed up beside him. Kevin, the first Flame Chaser, and leader of World Serpent stood before you, expression blank as always while he spoke with Sakura as though the two had held thousands of conversations before. He was quite possibly the last person you wanted to see. For as much as he laughed at you, once he recognized your apprehension, Kalpas didn’t waste a second in telling Kevin to scram.

“Who the hell invited you?” he angrily questioned. Lifeless blue eyes bored into you for just long enough to send a chill down your spine before there was a wall of heat separating you both. Licks of flame reach towards you as Kalpas spoke again, much louder this time. “Fuck off!”

By the time you were able to sidestep him and see around his broad shoulders, Kevin was gone. Sakura looked just as confused as you did, but with the other MOTH gone, all the heat in the room dispersed.

“Kevin is back, I gather,” you sighed wearily and sat on the edge of the platform to the battlegrounds while your personal shield left to sit on the couch. Sakura sighed and leaned with her back against the glass separating the lounge from the rest of the hall so she could see you. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to him eventually.” Tiredly, you rubbed your face with both hands before bringing your elbows to your lap and holding your head.

“No,” Kalpas scoffed without even glancing at you. “Tell him to go away if you don’t want to talk to him.”

“I think that only works for you,” Sakura pointed out and you groaned into your hands.

“Not my problem. He’ll be nothing but ash by the end of the week.” Laughter filled the room, and Sakura shook her head at your shocked look.

“He just wants to spar. They won’t kill each other.” That…wasn’t particularly comforting. The two could probably destroy the entire Realm if they wanted to, and you had put a lot of work into cleaning the place up. Plus, your actual job was only a few meters above and you’d like to keep that intact as well.

Stressed and tired, you left hoping that the hall would still be there when you came back in the morning. The next few days you remained on edge, waiting for the inevitable conversation. When it happened, Kevin kept it brief.

“You work for World Serpent?” he phrased it as a question, but it was clearly a statement. If context clues didn’t tell him the answer, then the uniform plastered with their insignia certainly did.

“Yes,” you hesitated, unsure whether you should still be calling him ‘sire’ here. Not that you’d ever spoken to him before.

“I sent you here?”

“No.” The only thing keeping you sane was your refusal to meet the icy stare, and the fact that you knew he couldn’t enter Helixcraft. Surely you were dead the moment you stepped outside, but for now you were safe.

“Who sent you?” The complete indifference in Kevin’s voice was worse than if he were shouting at you; it felt like you were being interrogated.

“No one. Found it myself,” dropping a screw, you swore under your breath and took a second to calm down before fishing the piece out. “Grey Serpent allows me to stay down here when I’m not needed.”

It was silent after you spoke, and you couldn’t tell if he was satisfied with your answer, thinking, or simply bored and had left. Well over a minute passed with you shuffling parts around and refusing to look up to check. Then he spoke. “Don’t waste your time here,” you froze at the words. “This place is a mausoleum. It’s best left for the dead.” The only sound you heard was the soft movement of his coat against the stairs, and metal falling from your hands.

Wild how sometimes I'm typing and I'll go "ooh I should use this word," and then I look at what I wrote and it's the same word. Almost like I am the same person. hhhhhh

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Our Hearts Collide - Chapter 4 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Simon

It seemed Xavier and Sam had more progress and there had been nothing but friendly banter.

Absentmindedly, I said to him.

"You know, I could picture you and Xavier together."

He scoffed.

"I dunno, that's quite the age gap. Plus, he's a father now."

"It's not that big of an age gap, Vince and I are the same amount of years apart. You make it sound like you're old. Plus, you're great with kids. I think Jonah and Lilah listen to you more than Xavier when you're around anyways."

He rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"You can picture me with kids? Raising them with Xavier?"

"Well, you two would need to hire a chef because neither of you can cook."

"Ouch."

He clutched his chest dramatically.

"I can cook... basic stuff. Enough to survive, anyways."

I hummed.

"You are better than Xavier, I'll give you that. At least you know what you can and can't microwave."

"He's lucky nothing's exploded yet."

I let out a breathy laugh.

"Well, he'd be lucky to have you."

"So would Vince," he said, patting our intertwined hands with his other hand.

"With you."

"Maybe one day. If... that is."

"One day," he reassured.

"You're mates after all."

********

Sam and I had stayed up too late watching that show Sam was raving about, especially since we re-wound to make sure we caught everything from the episode we half paid attention to.

We should've stopped after the two episodes but it was getting so good that we watched three more, even though they were an hour long each.

Clara had rolled her eyes that morning as we had been running late.

As an apology, she demanded we pick up Cindy's for lunch, to which Sam didn't argue, he could eat Cindy's three times a day if he had it his way.

Usually I manned the front desk with Ava but there were times I'd help with Clara and Sam in the back.

Of course, I wasn't trained or educated in any of the procedures of medicines but Sam had said that many of his patients felt at ease whenever I was back here with them.

Whether they were rogues or house pets, apparently I had a knack at calming them down.

We joked it was because I was 'half-wolf' but mind-linking did come in handy when easing the injured rogues.

I did enjoy working the front desk, though.

Ava would often tell me embarrassing stories about Sam and Clara, to which I kept to myself in case I ever needed to whip out some leverage.

We'd often prank each other at the office on slow days, little harmless ones to keep us entertained.

Now that the Rogue Center was revamped and reopened for all rogues, Sam's clinic focused more on your everyday house pets.

It meant less patients for Sam but it meant we could focus our efforts on providing quality care with the resources Sam had struggled in the past to maintain.

Although we remained non-profit, with the help of Ava's expertise on animal nutrition, we created a healthy, home-made food option for patients to purchase.

Although Xavier offered to help support us financially, the food had been quite a hit and donations were streaming in more frequently than ever before.

"Thanks again Jennie," Sam said as he opened the door to the patient rooms.

Jennie and her rough collie, Homer emerged, waving at Ava and I as she headed to the desk.

"I'll see you back in a week to remove the stitches."

"No, thank you Dr. Cavette," she droned before pulling out her schedule.

"Same time?"

He bent down to scratch behind Homer's ears.

"Whenever you're free that day would be great. Ava here can schedule it for you if you like and for the yearly visit too."

Sam's cell-phone rang, as Ava opened up the schedule on the computer.

He came back around behind the desk, muttering to me.

"I should take this call."

I nodded before reaching for the treat stash we kept near the pencil holders.

Sneaking one to Homer, it was like he didn't just have a few fresh stitches a few hours ago.

"Thanks, again Jennie," Ava said.

"We'll see you next week."

Just as she left, I tuned into Sam's conversation.

"No, I haven't seen him."

With furrowed brows, Sam hummed as the caller spoke out of earshot on the other end.

"Since when?"

"Who's that?"

Sam turned, almost taken aback by me asking.

He mouthed, Xavier, before returning to the call.

"Yeah, I haven't but I'll keep an eye out."

He gave me a quick smile before heading to the back door.

"I won't. Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll let you know if I do."

Sam paced around as he listened to Xavier say something else, answering him with something out of earshot before hanging up.

He returned with an uncharacteristic frown as he sat in the chair next to me.

"Yeah."

He sighed.

"Xavier was saying someone... a rogue, went missing last night. Wondered if I'd seen him at the clinic."

"A rogue?"

He blinked before fiddling with his cell-phone.

"Uh, yeah. Something about escaping the Rogue Center."

"Hmm, well, if he's injured, I'm sure he'll find his way back or should be easy to track down."

Sam nodded, before flipping through the files Ava had handed him.

One of our regular patients, who was doing a routine checkup on his pet husky.

"Want to help me with this one?"

Glancing over the desk, I could spot the fluffy tail of said husky with her owner, already whining and making little chuffs.

"Sure, this will be fun."

Sam's grin found its way back to his face, one I found more comfortable than that frown earlier.

"Then we can pick up Cindy's after. I'm thinking those strawberry waffles are calling my name again."

"It's lunch time, Sam. Not breakfast."

"Shh, it's totally brunch food, alright."

[mazegays]

could've followed my fears all the way down

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27

Chapter 26

Thomas hasn’t opened his eyes at all, no matter what Rosa says to him. He’s pretty sure it has to be near dark now, but he doesn’t want to check.

Checking won’t help him.

“Thomas, you can open your eyes, I know you’re awake.”

He doesn’t want to. He’s not opening his eyes until he’s out of this forest.

“No, Rosa.”

Ignoring her is so much easier. She can’t find anything to use against Minho and Gally if he does that—not that she seems to need much help with that.

He’d known she wasn’t a fan of Gally’s or Minho’s, but he’d thought they were friends.

“Why do you want to go back?” She asks. He can hear her sitting down next to his head.

“Rosa, I get that you think you’re helping, but Minho and Gally aren’t like your ex-boyfriend. They’re not hurting me. They never were. You just saw the bruises and thought there could be only one explanation.” He’s not going to tell her that she sent him into the thought process that ended up with him stuck in bed for weeks; he doesn’t want to find out how she’ll react.

“You don’t have to protect them.”

“I’m not, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Then look at me.”

“I can’t do that, Rosa.”

He knows his ribs still aren’t healed, he’s not going to risk injuring them more than having a panic attack.

Besides, by now someone knows something is wrong. They have to, right?

Someone will have noticed that he’s gone.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

Gally is left behind, again, as Minho and the others go to find Thomas.

Knowing why doesn’t mean he hates it any less.

“If you want to go back to wait, I can take you.” Frypan offers.

“No, I don’t want to just sit around again. I’ll stay here. What do you want me to do?”

Frypan gives him a dozen or so odd tasks while they wait. It’s not dinner time yet, but it feels like it’s been long enough that it should be. He knows he’s working too slowly, that he’s more in the way than he’s helping, but Fry doesn’t say anything, so he keeps going anyway.

Everything feels like it takes too long, and the silence only makes it worse. But Gally doesn’t think he can handle light conversation. It wouldn’t even distract him. Nothing can distract him. It’s not a new feeling; there have been other times when he’s been focused on a task and completely tuned out everything around him.

He’s just never been so focused on a person before. 

“Where do you think she took him?”

“Hopefully somewhere easy to find.”

Neither of them is really focused on cooking, which is only working for them because Frypan decided to throw a bunch of things in a pot and call it good.

“They’ll find him,” Frypan says.

They’d thought that last time, too, and it had taken them far too long to find him.

Rosa isn’t very good at covering her tracks, which Minho is immensely grateful for.

“Should we be quiet about this, or just go in?” He asks Harriet— she knows Rosa, it’s her call.

“I’ll go first. I don’t know what she thinks of you right now.”

Probably nothing good. Maybe Thomas has been able to talk her down some, but they don’t know that.

Another minute or so, and they can see them: Thomas is laying on his back, eyes closed. Rosa is sitting by his head, talking to him.

Is he asleep? Hurt? Or just trying to avoid looking at the trees?

“Rosa,” Harriet calls.

“Hey, Harriet. I guess Minho and Sonya are here, too?”

“Yeah, they are. We need to take Thomas back, Rosa, he can’t stay out here.”

“I’m just trying to help him.”

Minho catches Sonya’s eye and nods. Rosa is more focused on Harriet for now, so he sneaks around behind her.

When Rosa stands up, taking a few steps towards Harriet, he takes her spot at Thomas’s side.

“Hey, Thomas,” he whispers, “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

“Just get me out of here.” Minho is careful, but Thomas still winces a little. “Don’t make me open my eyes. I haven’t risked it, because I hate just being here.”

Now that he’s holding Thomas, he can feel him trembling just a little bit.

He leaves Rosa for Harriet and Sonya to deal with.

All he can hope is that this didn’t make things worse. If Rosa was careful enough, if he’s careful enough, then physically, Thomas won’t be reinjured.

From the way he won’t open his eyes, Minho already knows that there’s been mental damage done.

Thomas knows he passed out some time on the way out of the forest, but he doesn’t expect to wake up with only Gally there.

“Minho’s right outside,” Gally says before he can ask. “And Frypan made a new food for you.”

It looks like purple applesauce.

“Basically, but it has no apples in it.”

If it means he can keep something down, he’ll take it. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the last time he ate. He hadn’t eaten with Rosa; he doesn’t think she had food for him.

He doesn’t even know what her long-term plan for him was. How was she going to keep him hidden and fed? It’s not like he can do anything on his own right now. She had work to do, it’s not like she could just be with him all the time. Even now, it’s difficult for the multiple people who sit at his bedside to be there all time.

He can’t blame them; they’ve still got a lot to do here. 

He tries a few bites; it tastes fine, but he really doesn’t want to start throwing up again.

“Thomas, you know you have to eat more.”

“I know.” he sits up a little, using his good arm to shove a pillow into place behind him. “I hate throwing up, Gally. If I keep a little down, I’ll try more later.”

“I know you will, I just don’t want you to get that point again.”

He knows he’s already there. He knows he lost weight while he was in the forest, and he can’t gain it back if he can’t eat.

He just doesn’t know when he’ll be able to eat anything without it coming back up again.

It takes far longer than Thomas would like to get back to doing anything remotely normal.

His trip to the forest with Rosa wound up with him getting sick, because of course he did, and that pushed things back a lot.

It’s been a few months, as opposed to the month he’d thought it would be—hoped it would be— originally.

It doesn’t help that Gally was given the okay to go back to building a month and a half ago, as long as he’s careful. When he was still mostly confined as well, it was easier.

Thomas’s problem isn’t that he’s not healing well, he is, he just… he still can’t seem to keep anything down. He’s been living off of bread and soups, and he wants to eat something else.

His body disagrees.

Still, he wants to do something. Anything. 

His arm is still in the sling most of the day, but he can still do things.

Maybe Anya will finally let him do something light around in the greenhouse. It’s about the only place he’s been outside of this cabin in weeks.

Sitting around and reading all day was fun at first, but as much as he likes reading, he wants to move and talk to people again.

He needs something else to do.

(It’s not the white room, he’s got people, he’s not alone—he knows that. There’s something else that feels too familiar, but he just doesn’t know what it is.)

“Anya,” he’s not above a little pleading, “Please. Let me do something, anything, other than being in here all day. Can’t I go help Frypan again?” That had been fun, at least. And there must be things he can do with only one arm.

“Thomas,” she starts, stern, “Physically, you’ve healed exceptionally well. At least, as well as I can expect given the lack of technology to perform scans. Your stitches are all out, no signs of infection. What worries me about letting you work again is your arm— I still want you to wear the sling at least six hours a day— and how little you’re able to eat.”

He knows all of this. He wants to get out of here.

“Your arm only causes you pain if you use it too much, right?”

“Yeah.” Which he can’t even do, because everyone is always watching him.

It’s getting a little weird, honestly.

“Then yes. If it starts hurting more, let me know.”

“I will.” he promises, already grinning, “I’ll be careful.”

“Yes, I’m thinking you really learned your lesson after last time.”

He has. He’s not going to run off again, no matter the reason. Certainly not anytime soon, not that he’ll get far.

He can hardly even look at the forest right now.

That’s the next step: get to a point where going near the forest doesn’t send him into a panic attack.

“Hey, Thomas,” Anya finishes packing up her things, “Don’t go down by the fire pits alone, okay? There’s… something they need to show you, first. Let them explain it.”

That’s an odd request. He hasn’t gone anywhere alone lately at all, the few times he’s left.

What could be so bad by the fire pits that he’s not allowed to see it by himself?

It won’t be a problem— Gally will be back soon, and Minho after him. Thomas won’t get far without running into one of them.

He’ll just have to ask them what that’s all about. Anya is usually pretty straight with him, so it must be serious, but she sounds like it’ll hurt him or something.

How bad can it really be, anyway?

<- 25 27 ->

[soil-just-needs-water-to-be]

Chapter 8

Word count : 3793

This is also from George’s POV , this chapter took so long to put together and it was really hard to find the right things to say at points but I think this might be one of my favourites

George's POV

I woke up multiple time that night and into the early morning maybe it was a subconscious effort I was making to be there for Matty if he woke because I know he really needed someone to rely on. I can do that right, others have done it for me. It can't be that hard. What time is it, I looked over to my Alarm clock that was blinking violently at me letting me know that it was only 3:15, Damn that's far to early to be thinking so deeply about anything yet. Do I have a joint to calm me down?, Yes I think maybe I might. After rolling the joint I saunter over to my window to watch the quiet London suburb come to life. The street lights were dimming and the sunrise was a coccofany of oranges and pinks bleeding together looking like a real life Claude Monet painting spilling from the early morning sky. The amount of sunrise pictures I actually ave collected on my phone over the last few years is wild. I'd send them to Laura my exgirlfriend in the mornings when she's had a rough day, Maybe Matty would like that . I pick up my phone from the bedside table and quickly snap a pick and send it to him with a little note of.

"I hope this makes you smile."

I don't know if he would even enjoy it but I'd like to hope it would help.Once I've exhausted all the fumes from the joint my brain feels more clear so I think I'll try to get a little more sleep.

4 hours would be just grand.

The next time I am woken by my alarm going off right next to and quite frankly scaring me half to death. Blinking awake I realise Matty's call is no longer connected. That a little disappointing but I really hope I made his night somewhat better.

Anyway it's time to get up now I guess. On my way to the bathroom I knock on my sisters door to make sure there awake and to make them aware I have first dips on the shower. "By Christ it's cold in here". The bathroom is even colder than my bedroom, I swear this house is actually a fucking igloo sometimes. I turn the shower on and wait for the steam to envelope the room before stepping in the heat of the shower really relaxing my stiff muscles.

I had time to think in the shower about how to understand Matty's issues and how to help him. I think people always have there best thoughts and ideas in showers it's the calmness of it all. The calm before the storm of the day if you please.

Once I'm out it's now warm in the room the steam sticking to me so I quickly get dressed so I don't suffocate in the heat and then open the window to defuse the room. Leaving the room back into my bedroom I set my bag up again for the day and finally pick up my phone to see any message I had a few from Adam and a Snapchat from Matty I sit down on my bed and open it, it's just him layed in bed smiling "damn the colours in the sunrise." Ay he liked it, I reply back "Good morning love". I know I probably shouldn't be getting to attached to someone I barley even know but I want to help the most I can and showing you care helps right?. I don't have to leave for at least another half hour so I take out my laptop and start muddeling through some mixes I have to see if I can make a good track just to occupy my mind. Then at that Matty replies he's now in his uniform he's looking pale still but at least a little more put together than yesterday "g'morning G" along with a song attached "The Rock Show" by Blink-182 that's not a bad song not the best but maybe there's a reason he picked that or maybe it's just a song he likes. I reply back showing him I'm all ready for school "oh look at you school ready , also that's a classic tune bro" . This track just won't flow it doesn't even have a name but maybe I'll get there soon I've got two weeks before I have to turn it in I'm sure I'll get there it's a lot of sounds and noises really nothing mixed properly yet music production is what I want to do one day so hopefully I can pull this off. After another ten minutes the track begins to annoy me so I stick my laptop in my rucksack and just decide to leave a little early to see Adam and Joe. Matty messages back while on my walk he's also outside he's got a joint in his hand and he's actually smiling "yeh man it's a get up and go song you know, but anyway yeh I look ready for school but can't say I'm mentally prepared in all honesty". Here we go I can be a knight in sighting armour for him. "How you feeling today?."

His reply comes almost immediately "I'm not gunna sit here and lie and say I feel on top of the world or even good yet but having someone watch over me last night felt good, thank you man"

"Anymore sickness this morning, Are you sure you should be going in today." I'm waiting at the bus stop now with a bunch of other kids one of them knows Laura so sits there sending me evils the whole time like it was my fault we split but really it wasn't I stick in my headphones and drown out the world while I wait for the bus. Matty's reply come through just as the bus turns round the corner

"I haven't been sick yet but I've got maths first, I'm just doing it with my head of year this morning rather than in the actual class but my stomach and head are still swimming , I should be okay though."

"Can you promise you'll keep me updated on how your feeling today and if you do get sick let me know , I know there's not really anything I can do but I just feel the need to look after you"

"That's great but I can look after myself I don't want to stress you, but I will tell you if I get worse"

I board the bus after showing the driver my bus card and make my way to the back shoving my large frame into the very corner, hiding myself away from other people who may board. I watch the world fly by around me, the school is a twenty minute ride away it gives me time to message Adam realising I'd never actually replied.

"Where we're you last night man"

"Are you coming to school"

I totally forgot I had said I was going to Adams last night

"Yo dude I am so sorry I got caught up with something last night I really am sorry I'll come over tonight if that's okay, and yeh I'm on the bus now, I'm sorry again"

"Bro you weren't seriously up all night trying to get Laura back we're you we've been over this"

"No I wasn't , I haven't spoke to her in like 2 days bro"

Adam is always so quick with replies I don't know how he does it.

"Then what we're you doing"

"I was just helping a friend, they were having a tough night so I was hanging with them to calm them down ."

Mid way through the conversation with Adam another snap from Matty come through so I click through my home screen and select Snapchat opening Matty's message it's just him in his head of years office I'd assume and he already looks done with it. I snap back with a laugh "you already finished with it bro ? How longs it been 5 minutes"

He replies immediately but I miss it as I start to get my stuff together to get back off the bus and meet Adam at the front gates where I always meet him.

He's stood there with his new girlfriend and Joel, Adam is the most mature of us guys he knew how to treat people right , he was the smartest and he just understood people , maybe he could help me understand Matty emotionally.I wave once I get off the bus so I can grab his attention we nod at one other and Joel comes running over grappling me into his arms "Adam was just telling us you were up all night chatting up some new fling" . Joel was the gossip.

"I never said that, I was helping a friend, how is that chatting up a new fling?" I put quote marks up when I said "new fling" because I don't thing I even had an old fling I've only ever been with two people Laura and Joel himself yeh im bisexual. We were young though so we didn't really know anything we kissed a few times and we held hands and did cute stuff together but we didn't know anything but hey he was cute but things were different with Laura I knew what to do and how to do it and I always went through with stuff and played the motions but I can't really say I enjoyed it that much like yeh I loved her and we dated for quite some time but if I really think about it I didn't like her sexual. I loved her but as a friend I suppose I just thought it was different because she was the only girl who's ever shown me any attention.

We make our way to the building we all had music first thing so we made our way there all messing about and shoving each other around as we spoke Adam and Joel sat next to each other and I sat next to Carly Adams new girl, he'd been pinning over her for months, maybe even years I'm so happy he finally got the balls to ask her.

When we sit down Adam and Joel get caught up in a conversation about the new guitar Adam just bought and Carly turns to me "So the new imagery friend are they cute?"

"Um ....he really is only a friend he's having a really hard time and I've only known I'm like 42 hours maybe not even that there's no way I'd be looking at him in that way". I feel myself blush anyway because although we haven't known each other long I can still appreciate when someone is attractive "but uh yeh if your asking he's actually so attractive but I don't even know if he's gay". I scratch the back of my head and fidget in my chair a little as she's still looking at me "but I'm really just helping him get over whatever is bothering him"

"But would you like to get to know him and maybe like be in his life as more than just someone who helps him?"

"Maybe once he's better I'd love to see where the friendship take us". While talking about him I realise I hadn't noticed a reply for a while so I pick up my phone to check and yes there it is a message sent ten minutes ago I open it to see his face his eyes are bright and he's pulling on a single curl pulling it though his hand "I'm just bored is all , Miss Conner's isn't here yet, but I was just thinking about taking up that offer of you made me about helping with my maths GCSE". I start smiling at the fact that he was thinking about me, then set myself straight that he was only remembering a conversation we had but just as I'm about to reply Carly taps me "hey let me see" . I turn my phone toward her so she can see him and I'm smiling at her "wow he really is pretty"

"Yeh" I turn my phone back to myself and reply with just a message saying that I'd very much be down to help him whenever he needed it and put a small kiss after it just to test my luck and shove my phone back in my pocket because if he's going to be with his head of year all day he won't be allowed much time to reply and just with the my teacher walks in Mr Gardner the coolest teacher one could ever have. He's always helped me a little more than others I guess and he's always said he sees me going places. I've brung him a few demos over the last few years. He starts talking about todays lesson. He's really just giving us extra time to prepare our new mixes. I roll my eyes and sigh because this new demo has just had me defeated for a few days now and I just can't get it right. But he only speak for about ten minutes and let's us get on with our respective challenges this is when I turn back to Carly "Hey do you think you or Adam would be able to give me some advice, maybe you because you might be more sensitive about it with you being a girl and all"

"Sure what's up " she's still tapping away on her laptop while she's talking to me , very much engrossed in the work she's doing.

"We'll uh Matty that's the name of the guy I'm talking to is having a really tough time from what I can gather and he's been ill , I haven't witnessed them but he's cried a lot so he's possibly having panic attacks don't quote me on that , he's thrown up like 3 times in the space I've known him , he's so lost in his own head and I don't know how to help him"

"We'll do you know what's bothering him, he might just be sick and not coping very well because some people get like that when there sick they get tired easy"

I take out my laptop to try and get something done while talking to her if I have something to keep my mind at rest I might not get too nervous talking about it "He hasn't really told me anything other than he's stressing about exams and that he's really in his head right now"

"We'll really all you can do is be there for him , like how did you help Laura when she needed it" she looked at me then with a somewhat questionable look on her face.

"I could always just be there whenever she needed me and i just stuck around and talked her through stuff, but this is different I barley know him but I feel overprotective of him" the blush starts to creep up my neck and onto my face I try not to look at Carly and stay focused on the screen in front of me.

"Someone's smitten already are we." She's smiling at me knowingly , knowing that I can get attached to people really quick. It's actually amazing to think how quickly I can get attached to people but yet never having fully been in love. I'm just a hopeless romantic who feels the need to protect people. K night always there to save the damsel in distress so the saying goes.

"No I'm not smitten, he's just different he intrigues me is all?". He does interest me, he's like a lost soul trying to find a distraction in a future dystopian hell. Trying to fill a void. Trying to find himself. That could be the name of the track Lostmyhead. I know it's not my head that's lost but it just feels right. Now that I've got a name I can get the understanding for the track and I can maybe get Matty's input. I don't know if he's that into music but his in put might really be good. It's all coming together I plug in my headphones so I can really try it out. The synths and guitars really coming together pulling me into a feeling of uncertainty. Maybe this is what Matty feels like right now. It just needs lyrics to pull it together but I can do that another time but for now these notes and instruments coming together in my ears helps me understand how it much feel in his head.

With that I take my phone out and I message Matty "I have something I'd like to show you when you have time". I know he's probably not going to get it until break but it's there for him when he's ready I then put my phone away and hear the bell ring right through me and shudder at the sudden ringing

My next lesson of the day is computer science, this class is really uneventful all the time. I don't have much people to talk to in this class it's very quiet an all these kids are mad smart so I just keep to myself but the demo is constantly on my mind, keeping me distracted from any work really. I find myself constantly looking at my phone waiting for a reply which got me into trouble a few times . my hands were itching to call him to let him hear it but I know that's not going to do anyone any good and by the last time I check my phone the teacher then comes over to me "Mr Daniel this is the last time unfortunately, if I see that phone out again I will have to confiscate it". I shove it back into my pocket and get back to m work that was barley even started "sorry sir"

Break time rolls around soon though and I see I do have a few messages from Matty only five minutes after I'd put my phone away for good. They read as follows

"Thank you man honestly x"

"Miss Conner's is literally driving me insane right now x "

"What do you wanna show me" the last one was of his face he looks quite alright so it gives me a second to breath he looks like he's outside and there's a couple of lads behind him looking like there talking to him.

I sit down with my break apple juice and a ham sandwich boring I know but it's school what do you expect and answer him while the others are occupied "I've been producing a demo track for my Music portfolio and I'd really love it if you'd be listen to it"

He's messages back almost instantly the biggest smile on his face like the last day didn't even happen "bro I'd love that, music is literally everything, is it just instrumental or does it have lyrics?"

"Just instrumental right not but it could really use lyrics." I perk up at how excited he sounded, sitting up straight on these ridiculous plastic seats that I barley fit on.

Another immediate message "I write , would it be cool if I give it a listen and see if I can add the lyrics to it or is that weird"

"Nah bro go ahead I'll send it over, have you got something for break!?". I know he's excited right now but I still feel the need to look after him.

"My mum gave me a few breakfast bars and I was pretty much ordered to ave em 😂"

"Why's that ?" . Concern starts to drip back into my brain, Jesus this guy is going to be the end of me I swear to god, am I too attached already ?, maybe but it's done now

"I didn't eat yesterday and she doesn't want me to be sick again but we'll just have to see if I can keep down ay" he sent that with a picture of himself with his fingers crossed. There's still uncertainty laced behind his eyes but I don't want to freak him out so I just send him a picture in basically a replica of his "we'll let me know yeh , you've got to be starving bro , but hopefully it helps you stomach settle , how's your head ?"

"Still buzzing like mad but I'm dealing with it Ross gave me pain killers before break and there helping a bit?"

"How was your lessons with Miss Conner's is it ? , you said she was driving you insane is that a bad thing". I smile as he seems to be doing alot better than yesterday although I know this conversation is really nothing to go by but he's got people there to help too.

"Man she just won't shut up , it's the concerned teacher act that does my head in she's been on my back since I got in and my maths lesson with her went on for hours Jesus"

"Oh man nah I couldn't be doing that , what do you have next , are you going to that or will you still be with her ?"

"I'm going to try just go to my next lesson, it's German I don't mind that class to much, but I think I'll go back to miss for my class after lunch cuz im still a bit arghh you know and physics won't be good"

"Im glad your giving it a try but you know where she is if you do need her before last class yeh "

"Yeh she says I can go back at any point , thanks for being there darlin x" . I can feel myself blush all over again and I know I'm smiling like an idiot. Joel and Adam are looking at me. Adam chimes in.

"You were defiantly chatting someone up last night george my guy" he shoves me lightly as the bell goes signalling the end of break and we make our way to our next classes I feel alot lighter after that conversation.

[thisspaceintentionallyleftblank]

Try, Try Again (pt. 3)

Guess who saw the Lego Movie 2 again today?? I’m hoping the residual excitement will be enough to fuel a burst of writing, so that I can post stuff despite needing to complete approximately 12 billion assignments for school. We’ll soon see how idealistic of a notion that is... 

Anyways, here’s the chapter.

(Chapter 1) | (Chapter 2)

Chapter 3 (3001 words)

Lucy was currently perched in her favorite spot in all of Apocalypseburg. Up on Lady Un-Liberty’s torch, with her legs hanging over the edge and the cool wind ruffling through her hair, everything seemed to slow down momentarily.

On the city streets, which stretched out far below her feet, everything was constantly rowdy, chaotic, and loud. It was excitingly surely, and all wrestling and fighting could be fun, but sometimes, Lucy just preferred coming up here instead.

Of course, it also made an excellent spot for brooding.

For Lucy, brooding was an art form. It was edgy and mature and, if you did it right, people would recognize that you were edgy and mature as well. On a basic level, brooding was a bit like poetry. It all came down to the words that you used, and the way that you said them. It was a skill that Lucy had in bounds, and was one of the reasons why she’d been such a good songwriter when she was younger.

Reaching up, Lucy absentmindedly pulled at a strand of her hair. It curled around her finger, the dark color shimmering in the sunlight. She had moved on from her pop star career a long time ago, but sometimes she found herself expected to see a different color in the mirror. The dye job had been necessary, as she reminded herself frequently. She’d had no choice but to change herself in order to be taken seriously by the other Master Builders. When they’d first seen her, looking like the preppy idol on a Business-brand record label, they hadn’t seen a rebel or a freedom fighter. All they’d seen was a symbol of the establishment. They’d seen her as the girl she wasn’t anymore - the girl that she couldn’t be anymore.     

With a quick glance at her phone, she checked the time. Emmet would be arriving any minute with their morning coffee. If she started brooding now, she probably wouldn’t be finished by the time he got here, meaning that he’d likely try and join in again.

Emmet had… tried brooding with her a few times, but usually those attempts just devolved into him talking about a random topic in a slightly more gravelly voice. To be fair, the approach had worked reasonably well the time he’d aired his grievances with Jeff, but the rest of his topics, such as his views on toasters and hi-vis vests, had been significantly less successful.  

Lucy sighed. She wasn’t really in the mood to brood today anyways, and had basically resorted to waiting up here for Emmet to show up and help take her mind off things. She liked it here in Apocalypseburg, much more than she had ever liked living in Bricksburg. There, she had been forced to choose between either being a cog in the Business machine or a criminal constantly on the run for her life. In Apocalypseburg, she felt like she could be more herself than she had been for a while. Despite the newfound sense of freedom, the city could still get overwhelming sometimes.

Whenever it did, sitting up here with Emmet was like coming up for air.

She checked the time again. At some point during her ruminations, the clock had shifted well past eight and begun closing in on nine. A sharp sense of worry started seeping into the back of her mind. Emmet had never been late before. Ok, well, he had, but it had only been the once, and even then it was because he had fallen into the sewer baby pit and had taken over an hour to pick out all the little spikes.  

Not for the first time this morning, Lucy caught herself peering over the edge of the torch platform, down towards the base of the statue. Below her, a well timed tumbleweed trundled past, clearly signifying the lack of any happy-go-lucky ex-construction workers.

Uugh, she thought with a deliberate roll of her eyes, I’d better go find him before he gets hurt. The dread that had started building settled slightly at the thought. In a flash, she turned from the edge and started running down the statue. With a little under an hour left before she needed to meet up with Batman and patrol, she ought to have enough time to ask a few folks around town if they’d seen anything.

As usual, the streets of Apocalypseburg were populated with crowds of people, clouds of desert dust, and the odd barfight or two that had gotten wild enough to spill out onto the street. Lucy strode confidently through, easily sidestepping groups of wrestling people and hopping over the several prone figures that littered the ground. Emmet’s favorite coffee shop was down this way, just past Benny’s shop, which made him a good first candidate for her search.   

Predictably, Benny was out front of his shop, working as always on improving Metalbeard’s new body. His workshop consisted mainly of a fenced-in platform, which had been lofted for the twofold reason of avoiding the madness of the street below, as well as preventing Benny from accidently setting another passerby on fire.   

“Hey Benny,” Lucy called out, as she expertly leapt up onto the platform.

“Lucy!” Benny cheered. He whirled around to greet her, dropping the wrench he’d been holding in his excitement.

“Yar!” Metalbeard cried out as the tool tumbled down into the construct of his body, ricocheting off various components before clattering to the ground.  

“Oops,” Benny laughed. “Sorry about that...” Turned back towards the pirate, he floated up slightly, such that he could rummage around, searching for his wrench.

“So Lucy,” Metalbeard addressed her while staunchly ignoring the spaceman mucking about in his guts. “Are ye just popping by for a visit, or was there something ye needed?”

“I was wondering if you guys had seen Emmet yet today.” Lucy stepped forwards as she spoke, picking up the wrench from where it had fallen and passing it to Benny. “He was supposed to meet me at the top of the statue a while ago, but never showed up.”  

“Thanks,” Benny took the wrench from her and twirled it absentmindedly in his hands as he spoke. “Yeah, Emmet came by this morning. He had his coffee, was listening to his music, and told me that he appreciates our friendship. You know, the usual!”

Concern creased Lucy’s brow. “Do you know when that was?”

“Earlier than usual,” Metalbeard grumbled. “Much too early for that accursed ‘pop song’ he insists on playing...”

Benny chuckled in agreement. “Yeah, the line at Larry’s must have been pretty short. It was maybe a quarter to eight.” At the thought, Benny frowned. “Do you think something happened to him?”

“I’m not sure,” Lucy sighed, unable to keep the worry out of her voice. “Just… let me know if you see him, ok?”

“Can do, lassee.”

“Sure thing!”

“Thanks guys,” Lucy gave a weak grin and leapt over the fence, falling to the street and leaving the two to their work.  

In an attempt to follow Emmet’s footsteps, Lucy continued down the street, occasionally pulling someone aside to ask them increasingly worried questions. The sewer babies had seen him, but didn’t know where he’d gone. Similarly, neither Chainsaw Dave, nor Crazy Cat Lady, nor any of her cats had any idea where Emmet could have gotten off to.

She had just finished questioning Battle Debra, who hadn’t even actually seen Emmet at all, when a dark shadow engulfed them both. In the next moment, Batman swooped down beside them.

“Hey Lucy,” he growled, leaning against a nearby wall in a calculated effort to appear nonchalant. “You ready to go, or whatever?”

“Yeah,” Lucy sighed. “Let’s just make this quick, ok?”

Hurt by her dismissive tone, especially considering how cool his entrance had just been, Batman’s permanent frown deepened even further. “Uh, why?”

“It’s just that Emmet didn’t show up this morning. I’ve been trying to find him, but...” She trailed off momentarily, before adding bruskly, “I’m sure it’s nothing, but you know.”

Batman grunted. “He’s probably just working on his little house.”

Lucy snapped her head up in surprise. “His what?”

“His little house. You know, the one he’s building out in the wasteland.”

“No, I don’t know.” Lucy pulled at her hair in frustration. “What, did he tell you? Did you see him this morning?”

“Pshh, no.” Batman smiled. “It’s like, supposed to be a surprise, but I am the world's greatest detective after all.”

Lucy scowled at him, and his smug expression drooped slightly.

“Uh,” he faltered. “I also have like, a super huge telescope, so it was pretty easy to find.”

Lucy groaned. “Ok then, fine. It's just… weird that he didn't mention it earlier. Usually he tells me everything.”

Batman shrugged. “I mean, I think it was supposed to be a surprise, uh, for you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Um,” Lucy coughed into her hand, trying to clear her throat and in no way trying to hide the blush blooming on her cheeks. “I mean, I guess he’ll just tell me about it when he's ready…”

Noticing the emotion steadily creeping into her voice, she hastily changed the subject. “Uh, we should definitely stop talking about this and go patrol, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Batman said. He pulled out a remote control from his belt and, with the click of a button, the Bataclysm shot out of a nearby alley, screeching to a halt beside them. In a fluid motion, the two flipped up their respective doors, leapt inside the vehicle and clicked the doors back into place. With a gratuitous squeal of the engine, the sleek black custom vehicle revved up and took off into the wasteland.

The process of “patrolling” usually entitled driving around aimlessly and fighting any random aliens that showed up. Whenever she patrolled with Benny or Metalbeard, they would routinely get distracted combing through the wreckage for cool pieces. But Batman had long since had collected all the black and dark gray pieces that he needed, and as such, he now went on patrols mainly to beat up the alien creatures. He was, as he described it, simply “working out his inner rage and turmoil through meaningless physical violence.”

Lucy wasn't really sure why she went on patrols. She wasn't really looking for supplies or a fight. It just felt like… the right thing to do. Like something that she had to do it, so that someone else wouldn't need to. In a way, it made her feel like she could protect their new home.

It made her anxious, the way that Emmet kept asking to tag along. She'd told him multiple times that she'd bring pieces back for him, and she knew that he didn't like fighting, but still, he kept asking for some indiscernible reason. Glumly, she looked out the Bataclysm’s tinted windows, watching the ruined skeletons of shattered skyscrapers as they slipped past. What was it out here that Emmet found so alluring?

Regardless of his motivations, she already knew that Emmet would likely never get to run patrols. He was just… too sweet. He always had been. The way that he greeted everyone so cheerfully? The way that his grin never seemed to falter? The way that he still liked fun popular music? Like, who did that?

Not Lucy, that much was for sure. Lucy was cool and tough and edgy now.

And Emmet? He just wasn't.

She had loved that about him, but at some point it had just transformed into a source of worry. The world had made it abundantly clear that everything fun and colorful was in danger here and, instead of changing himself accordingly in order to stay safe, like any totally sane and rational person would, Emmet had just stayed Emmet.

Lucy sighed, pressing her forehead into the cool glass of the window.

“Are you brooding right now?” Batman asked, turning to glower in her direction. “Because it’s my car, and the rule is that only the driver gets to brood.”

“I’m just… thinking.” She mumbled in a half-hearted reply.

“Oh, good. I wasn’t planning on thinking, so you can do that if you want.” Turning his focus back to driving, he cranked a dial on the dashboard, sending a shockwave of pulsating heavy metal music blasting out of the back seats to help fill the awkward silence between them.

Ignoring him, Lucy went back to staring listlessly out the window. Maybe they'd encounter some aliens, and she could try distracting herself from her myriad concerns and personal insecurities with violence, like Batman always does.

Come on, she thought for perhaps the first time in the five years they'd been under siege. Come on, let's see some aliens.

There weren't any aliens.

In the end, all that Lucy had accomplished was sitting in a testosterone and leather scented car for two hours while listening to Batman talk about the power of abs or something. All in all, the experience had done little to help ease her thoughts on Emmet.

To make matters worse, her stomach had begun growling something fierce. Caving to her body’s demands, she decided to postpone her search for Emmet until after a quick stop at her favorite lunchtime cafe - Le Pain.

“Hey, Lucy!” As she entered, a familiar voice shook her out of her thoughts.

“Emmet!” She cried, a fond grin forming on her cheeks. “I’ve been looking for you!”

Emmet laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way he does. “Sorry about this morning...”

“But! Um,” He gestured towards the table he was sitting at, which had been clearly set for two. “I was hoping that I might be able to make up for it with some lunch?”

“Sure,” Lucy said, taking the seat across from him.  

“How was your patrol?” Emmet asked.

“Eh, pretty uninteresting.” Lucy replied. She reached for one of the menus resting in the center of the table, and began perusing through the lunch items. “Apparently Batman has a kid now, but other than that nothing really happened.”

The waiter, a former french mime whose face had been repainted so to resemble a skull, walked up to take their orders.

“I'll have an abnormally large croissant and a black coffee, please.” Lucy ordered, passing her menu back to the waiter.

“Same for me,” Emmet added, earning him a skeptical look from Lucy.

“Are you sure?” She asked, doubt apparent in her tone. “I thought you didn't like black coffee?”

“Well,” Emmet said, with a crooked, almost shy smile. “I’ve decided to take it up recently. So that I can be tougher, like you guys.”

“Oh?” Lucy’s expression reflected her pleasant surprise. “I'm glad to hear it.”

After a minute or two, the waiter brought back their food, and the pair started to eat. As usual, everything tasted fine, but had a rather gritty texture. Living in a desert, there wasn't much a chef could do to keep out the sand - which, as everybody knew, was coarse, rough, irritating, and got everywhere.

“Hey Emmet,” Lucy said after a moment. “Was there… a particular reason you couldn't hang out this morning?”

“Oh,” he replied. “Well, I was going to tell you later, but I've actually started training. As part of becoming tougher, that is.”

“Training?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah, like lifting weights and doing backflips and stuff. You know, tough guy stuff.”  

“Ok, right. That makes sense.” Lucy chastised herself for worrying. Here she was, worrying over Emmet for being too soft and vulnerable when in reality he was off working at becoming better and stronger. She felt almost foolish now for having run all over town looking for him.

Across from her, Rex continued to pick at his food. He hadn’t really eaten much since… before everything, and he was finding the experience more uncomfortable than he remembered. Logically, he knew that he should be making more conversation, asking Lucy about her day and her thoughts, and a billion other things like Emmet always had, but he was struggling to think of any conversation topics. He knew what kinds of questions he really wanted to ask her… but this Lucy wasn’t the one that had left him in Undar that had foiled his plans… so he knew he'd never get a satisfactory answer.

A moment ago, he’d seen the worry on Lucy’s face when she’d asked where he’d been that morning. Then, as he explained that he was training, that he was tough now, her concern  had vanished, replaced with a soft smile. And now, as he finished his coffee, her smile had only grown bigger.

She seemed overjoyed… ecstatic that “Emmet” was finally acting tough, just like she’d wanted him to be.

Rex understood, of course. His time in Undar had been educational in that way, constantly hammering in the fact that being tough was the only way to protect yourself. Emmet needed to learn that; he needed to see that his cheerfulness and his optimism were idealistic, unsustainable, and paving the path towards suffering.

But, for some reason, the thought was still upsetting. Anger roiled in the pit of his gut, turbulent and boiling hot, making it harder and harder to maintain Emmet’s constant dopey grin.

For a moment, it almost felt like he was resentful at how ready Lucy was to accept that Emmet was changing, how excited she was for him to totally overhaul his personality. Obviously, he couldn't be upset about that though, since he agreed with the sentiment. Rex had been responsible for sending Emmet away for training, after all.

He was just… still upset that she had ruined his plans last time.

That was all.

Confident in his identification of the feeling’s source, Rex could then manipulate it, burying it underneath layers of swagger and machismo.  He had years of practice dealing with these kinds of emotions and had long since perfected the art of hiding and ignoring them. As such, his disguise remained perfect, his painted smile never wavering.

[harley-sunday]

North Star [bonus]

Summary: Charles Leclerc just won his first Grand Prix since Monza 2019 and he knows exactly why his luck has changed. 

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x reader

Chapter warnings: None

Word count: 1.1k

AN: Surprise, I guess :) This is just a short drabble I wrote after Charles’ first win of this season because this fits into the North Star timeline perfectly (after Part 4 and before the Epilogue). You could read this as a standalone, but I think it makes a little more sense if you read North Star first :) 

eL, this one’s for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Sharl fandom, my devious friend. ♥

Sakhir, March 20, 2022

"Charles Leclerc, congratulations," the reporter nods at him to emphasize his words even though Charles knows the sympathy would have been the same no matter who would end up finishing first. They're pretty interchangeable, race winners. Or, at least for the press they are. Still, he smiles because that's what Silvia, his press officer, would want him to do. Smile, sit pretty, and win races. Well, guess what? Check, check, and check.

"-started first and finished first," the reporter's voice interrupts his thoughts and even though he missed the first half of the question, it doesn't matter because he already knows how it will end, "and got fastest lap at the first race of the season. How does that make you feel?"

Charles runs a hand over his face to buy him some more time, a trick he learned from his first press officer back at Alfa Romeo. Not that he needs more time, because he knows exactly how he feels - like he's on cloud eight, or nine, or whatever the expression is - but apparently it's better to tone it down a little, to not show the world your entire hand, or something like that anyway. And so, when he looks back at the reporter he smiles a somewhat fake smile and says, "It is a great way to start the season, for sure, but we still have twenty-two races to go and I think it is only after the last race we can truly see where we stand."

Next to him, Silvia nods, letting him know she's pleased with his answer. Good.

"Ever since testing in Barcelona," the reporter continues, "there's this buzz that has been going around when it comes to Ferrari, saying you might be serious contenders for the Constructors Championship this year. Do you share that sentiment?"

"It is no secret we have a good car this year," Charles offers easily enough. This is one of the easier questions, not in the least because he knows exactly what the team wants him to say. They even spoke about it in the briefing on Thursday. "And it's performed well here on track but like I said, it is a long season so let's wait and see."

Silvia holds up one finger then, to let both Charles and the reporter know there's only time for one more question.

The reporter nods and clears his throat, "There's also a bit of a buzz going around when it comes to you, Charles. After a not so great twenty-twenty season and an, only, slightly better season last year, it looks like you have found your way again. What changed?" 

XXX

Les Côtes, January 1, 2022

You listen to Charles play the piano, trying to understand the piece he's composed in the two years you spent apart. It starts out rather dark and gloomy, the notes feeling rather disconnected, which you suppose represents the first few weeks or maybe even months after your breakup, but it ends much lighter, the notes now complimenting each other and the tune he's playing almost hopeful.

“If it’s about us,” you say once he's finished, leaning in and resting your chin on his shoulder, “then it sounds like you. Like you’re helping me find my way back.” 

“Hmm,” he agrees quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You let out a content sigh and softly whisper, “I think you should call it North Star.” 

"Maybe I should," he teases, taking one of your hands in his, "but only if you promise to let me guide you home."

You lean back and look at him, biting your lip because his words seem to hold a promise you rather hear him say out loud, "What do you mean?"

"Come with me this year, Flo. Let's travel the world together like we did before." He squeezes your hand and there's something about the way he looks at you that lets you know what he's going to say next is important.

It is.

"Now that I've found you again, I don't ever want to let you go."

XXX

What changed? 

Everything, he thinks, and yet nothing at all.

What he says instead is, "I think that after my last win in Monza I felt like some things were starting to slip away from me a bit-" he doesn't dare to look at Silvia because he knows this is nothing like the answer she expects him to give. She wanted him to say how hard the team has worked over the winter break, how hard they worked to develop a car that might be a championship contender again, and how this is very much a team effort. It'll probably earn him a firm talking-to from her in the debrief later but he doesn't care. He wants to answer this as truthfully as he can without giving too much away and so he continues, "It took me two years but I think I found what I was missing again this winter and I couldn't be happier."

"Which is?" The reporter asks even though technically his time is up.

Still, Charles is glad he does, because he gets to look into the camera and tell the world, "I finally got my Flo back."

"Your flow?" 

“Yes,” Charles looks back at the report and smiles. 

"Sorry," Silvia interrupts, holding up her hand. "That's all we have time for."

Charles nods at the reporter as a goodbye before he turns around and follows his press officer, ready for another carbon copy of the same interview he's already given five times in the last ten minutes. To say he's a little surprised when she leads him back to the garage is an understatement. He should know better than to question her, but still he asks, "No more interviews?"

Silvia shakes her head, "I told you, only five, no?"

She must have, he thinks, but he doesn't remember. Not that he wants her to know that and so he nods, Yeah. Sure."

"We have a team photo with you and Carlos in five minutes," Silvia reminds him when they reach the garage. "Please don't be late."

"No, ma'am," he mutters under his breath but only because by then she is out of earshot and he doesn't risk a reprimand for making fun of the situation. Just as he's about to continue on to his driver's room someone grabs his hand and pulls him into a corner.

"You got your Flo back, huh?"

He lets out a laugh at the way his girlfriend seems so very pleased with herself and so he presses a kiss to her lips before he tells her, "I did."

She lets go of his hand and puts her arms around his neck, pulling him into her as she lets her lips ghost over his, "Yeah, you did."

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 4 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary after waking from a taunting nightmare, tommy expels some late night energy on some wandering mobs. you give him another lesson about taking care of himself, even when working hard, and tommy asks if you’ll teach him archery, which, of course, doesn’t go without entertainment.

warnings nightmares, mob killing

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @halcyoncraft

he was running again. he didn’t know where or from what, but his legs carried him far and strongly, weaving him through trees and grass and other obstacles along the way. he didn’t know how in danger he was, but he wasn’t going to stop and find out.

then he tripped.

when he flipped onto his back, it was that goddamn mask staring down at him, the lips just under it laughing, “you’re so weak, tommy! did you do anything while you were in neutral?” then his axe came down and tommy braced himself for the pain and release of death.

he woke up instead.

sweating under his covers, tommy sucked in a harsh breath as he sat up. he threw the soft cotton off of him, running a warm hand down his face. it was just a dream; he was safe in neutral.

looking out of the window next to him, he saw the moon still high in the sky, casting a cool light into his bedroom. dream’s words rang through his head like a bell, and he rubbed at his temples with a sigh. was he actually getting weak? was relaxing such a bad thing? at the very least, some part of him must have thought so to conjure a nightmare like that..

with another sigh, tommy lifted himself out of bed and flipped open the ender chest. he drew out his sword before heading to the main floor of the house.

when he reached the bottom of the stairs, a voice called out to him, “tommy?” his heart nearly stopped for a moment, before peeking into the kitchen and realizing it was just y/n. she sat in candlelight, writing in a small journal with a slice of half-eaten pumpkin pie next to her. “are you alright?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his voice still heavy with sleep. “just gonna go kill some mobs.”

she nodded. she looked tired, and a part of tommy felt bad knowing that she was most definitely going to wait for him to return. “okay. have at it, kid.”

he nodded, turning to leave the kitchen. before he did so, he pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder to y/n. “you should go to bed.”

she gave him a smile, scribbling something down in the small journal. “i will, tommy. just gotta finish this up..” his natural curiosity was drawn to the small book, and he almost asked y/n what she was writing. but then dream’s voice rang through his mind again, and tommy silently headed for the doors of the house.

the night air was refreshing on his warm skin, cool and still as the moon illuminated the frontal beauty of neutral territory. he took a deep, calming breath of that crisp air before focusing on the task at hand: proving to himself that dream was wrong. that dream is always wrong.

after about twenty zombies, ten spiders, countless creepers, and a few endermen, tommy finally felt the burn in his arms become nearly too much to bear. he panted as he struck down one last spider, turning and finally deciding to return back to the comfort of y/n’s home.

he sheathed his sword when he finally entered the house, going straight to the kitchen to see that y/n was still awake and writing in her small journal.

“ready to go to bed?” he asked gruffly.

she looked up slowly before nodding, placing her quill down and capping her ink. “any trouble out there?”

“no,” he spoke, shaking his head. “wrote everything you needed to?” y/n blew out her candle and went to join the boy in the doorway to the kitchen.

“as much as i could, anyway,” she shrugged, smiling lazily as they began to walk toward the stairs. “what was your nightmare about?”

tommy was slightly startled, but a little too tired to react drastically to y/n’s deduction. “how’d you know i had a nightmare?”

“i’ve had them before,” she said simply. “and it seemed natural that you’d expel some energy onto mobs after such a thing.”

“you’re smart,” tommy credited.

“thank you,” y/n yawned.

they continued to climb the stairs in silence as tommy considered his words. “i was being hunted by dream again, but this time you weren’t there to save me. he called me weak and killed me.”

“so you wanted to prove to yourself that despite allowing yourself peace, you didn’t have to sacrifice your strength to get there,” y/n summed.

the boy half-smiled. she was spot on, as always. “exactly,” tommy breathed. 

y/n was silent for a moment as she thought. they stopped at the hallway to tommy’s room and it then occurred to tommy’s tired mind that her room was downstairs; she was walking with him because she cared about him. 

“honestly, tommy, if this is a real concern for you, then there is no harm in taking time out of your day to work out and train,” y/n spoke. “but the most important thing is to recognize when enough is enough, and when enough becomes too much. you’ve allowed yourself peace and care for the last two weeks, and achieving such a state doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice fighting or training; it just means that you need to be more aware and in tune with yourself as you’re doing it.” tommy nodded.

“don’t overwork yourself, is the summary here,” she said, picking a cobweb off of his shirt. “let yourself do the things you want, but make sure it’s not wearing you down. that’s taking care of yourself.”

“alright,” tommy spoke quietly. “thank you, y/n.”

“of course, kid,” she smiled. “get some sleep, alright? if you have another nightmare you’re free to bother me.” tommy nodded again. “good night, tommy.”

“good night, y/n,” he yawned as she turned to head down to her room. he made sure he heard her door shut before finally heading to his own room.

...

“can you teach me archery?” tommy questioned the next morning at breakfast. it was a question that had bugged him since y/n had first revealed her skills just a few days prior, and since he was going to start training, he figured that might be a good place to start.

“sure,” she chuckled as she scooped some more fruit onto his nearly half-eaten plate of french toast.

“why the laugh?” he questioned through a mouthful of berries.

she shrugged to herself. “your curiosity is showing.”

“i’ve been wondering about it since you took out the mob,” tommy admitted. “if i want to get stronger.. i think this is a good way to.”

“perfecting a skill is the perfect way to get stronger,” y/n voiced. “of course i’ll teach you, kid.” she smiled and he turned back to his breakfast with his own grin. “finish up your food and meet me in the basement; we gotta get you a bow first.”

tommy hadn’t been in the basement of the house yet. he opened the heavy, dusty trapdoor and assumed y/n didn’t go down their often either. he slid down the ladder easily and was immediately hit with heat.

y/n had a welding station upstairs in her shop area, but the basement had a more broad and intense version of that area. several anvils, all cracked and rusted and adorned with different materials were scattered in a sort of pattern amongst the space, a fire burning high in a fireplace at the far side of the room. seeing no sign of y/n, tommy moved to the room to his left.

the next room held a large nether portal, as well as a small farm for netherwart. the dark room felt empty to him, and he had to remind himself that he was in fact in y/n’s house still. he remembered she had said that she didn’t like going to the nether.

“i’m in here, tommy!” she called out. he took another left into a small storage room, where y/n was rustling through a chest. “how tall are you, kid?”

“6’1”,” he answered.

y/n smiled. “you’re a lot taller than i’ll ever be.” she took out a pretty oak bow, slightly scratched and obviously old. “you’ll have to use this for now, until i can make you one that’s your size.” he took the bow from her hands, shrugging.

“it’s fine.”

“good,” she hummed, still shuffling through the chest as tommy took the time to look around the small room.

“what’re the dispensers for?” tommy asked, staring at the wall that held the three stone tools.

“im nothing if not prepared, tommy,” y/n spoke as she took out a quiver and began to fill it with arrows for him. “in case of emergency, those dispensers will set off flares to let others know that im in trouble or that neutral is in danger.”

tommy nodded, still looking at the obviously unused dispensers. “smart.”

“i hope so,” she sighed, handing him the quiver of arrows. he strapped it around himself as she continued, “let’s just hope i never have to use them, yeah?”

“yeah,” he chuckled. she gave him a smile, hoisting her bow higher in her grip.

“you ready to shoot some things?”

...

“relax your shoulders,” y/n reminded. tommy did so, his fingers still white with effort against the taut string of the bow. “don’t pull so hard, tommy. you’re shaking.” he sighed as he let the string and arrow go limp, lowering his bow as y/n approached him closer.

it was his second day of archery training, and he was still missing nearly every target. y/n was a calm and collected teacher, offering him advice that was pointed directly for him and reassured him that there was no rush in the learning process. but after missing fifteen or so shots in a row, tommy was getting frustrated.

and it didn’t help with sapnap and george staring at him through the kitchen windows.

“doin’ great, kid,” sapnap encouraged weakly, taking a drink of the lemonade y/n had lovingly prepared for the boys. just watching the older man sip made tommy’s mouth dry, but he was determined to make five shots in a row before taking a break.

tommy glared at the man before turning his gaze back to his mentor. “ignore him, tommy,” y/n spoke gently. “nick couldn’t hit a target if it was three paces away.”

“that’s a lie!”

“im kidding,” y/n laughed, placing a hand on tommy’s shoulder and turning him away from the distraction that was sapnap. “but seriously, there’s almost always going to be someone watching when you shoot. the more you can tune them out, the better. just focus on your aim--and make sure your grip is looser. you’re gonna snap that string in no time otherwise.”

“loose grip, focus on aim,” tommy breathed and she patted his shoulder as he turned back to the target ahead of him. he hoisted the bow up slowly and pulled the string back just enough that it wasn’t fully taut. he made sure his aim was a little higher than his target, and released the whizzing arrow. the arrow pierced just outside of the center ring.

“perfect,” y/n smiled. “now, do it again.” and he did, taking another deep breath and allowing himself to focus in on the feel of the rough wood on his fingertips, and the tight string he was pulling. the arrow hit just beside his last. she nodded encouragingly. “keep going.”

tommy could feel his heart start to thump in his chest from the excitement of his accurate aim. he took another calming breath and watched as the arrow lodged closer to the center.

“great aim,” she complimented and he grinned as he pulled another one back, trying to contain his shaking as he aimed. the arrow shot lower than his previous, but on the target nonetheless. “still a good shot. one more?”

“yeah,” tommy nodded, licking his dry lips as he retrieved another arrow from his quiver. heart still thumping with utter excitement and pride at y/n complimentary words, he quickly released the arrow and his smile dropped as the arrow lodged into the ground before the target.

“hey, that’s fine!” y/n assured as tommy groaned and dropped his head. “four in a row is an amazing improvement, tommy. you should take a break and reward yourself.”

tommy sighed, looking to the shameful arrow. “yeah. alright.” he dropped the bow to the ground along with his quiver. he looked to his slightly splintered fingers. “im gonna go.. wash up.”

“alright,” y/n smiled as tommy scampered away. she entered into the open kitchen, smiling at her guests. “you boys doing alright?”

they nodded. “when did you take up parenting, y/n?” george giggled. she rolled her eyes as she went to pour her and tommy their own glasses of lemonade. “no, seriously! you care for that kid a lot, it-it’s not a bad thing!”

she sighed, leaning against her counter as she sipped at her lemonade. “i know you two haven’t always agreed with him in the past, but i think tommy’s a good kid. i like his ethic, and i think he has a lot of potential. but that being said..” she shook her head. “he’s so young.” the boys nodded. “he’s been thrown into such a life of chaos and destruction, and im not saying he’s at all innocent, but.. i think it’s good for him to learn that there’s more to this world than just war and enemies. there’s...”

“neutral,” sapnap finished for her. she let out a laugh.

“yeah, neutral,” she agreed, tapping her fingers against her cold glass. “but, yeah, if teaching him peace and self care is motherly of me..” she shrugged. “then i guess im alright with being a parent.”

“that’s sweet,” sapnap nodded. “i hate it.” the three of them laughed, y/n laying a light slap on the man’s arm before tommy’s voice called out to her.

“y/n! can i have some help?”

“im coming!” she called back, setting down her glass of lemonade.

“go help your poor son,” george teased, resting his head in his hand as he gazed at y/n amusedly. she rolled her eyes.

“behave, you two,” she laughed before leaving the kitchen.

there was a moment of silence before george spoke, “i do think it’s quite sweet how y/n’s taken tommy in. i think it’s good for both of them.”

“you say that now,” sapnap sighed, leaning back in his chair. “but just wait until tommy’s back to feeling 100% and y/n’s going around saying “pog” all the time.”

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